


Finding Alice

by IndigoUmbrella



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 55,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoUmbrella/pseuds/IndigoUmbrella
Summary: “Every time I close my eyesIt’s like a dark paradiseNo one compares to youBut there’s no you,Except in my dreams tonight.”-Lana Del Rey





	1. Chapter 1

Isolation is what he knew best. Even as a child when he had a family to call his own, he was alone. His father, a hatter, worked day and night making hats for the local villages and even the nobility. His mother, though she claimed herself a homemaker, spent her days assisting her husband with his work. When she wasn’t cooking and cleaning and caring for their small cabin in the woods, nestled in a valley of lilac trees.

Jefferson had learned loneliness from the first time his mother pulled him out of his sling, claiming he was now too heavy to be carried around all day. He’d learned to play alone, was educated alone, and lived his life alone.

For a child so accustomed to isolation, he’d dreaded it. Every mistake he’d ever made in his life had been in some vain attempt to ease that loneliness. But it always failed, and isolation would quickly consume him again. He could survive in isolation, but not thrive.

No one ever asked. And he hated that they never thought to. He’d appeared through a portal one day carrying a crying infant, wrapped in an icy blue fabric stained with her mother's blood. And no one cared to ask where she’d come from or why he’d vowed never to return to the one place that eased that loneliness. Even for a moment.

For a while, isolation had been nothing but a painful memory. He still lived in a small cabin in the woods, but he had a child to care for, and no time to think about the empty hole in his heart that her mother had left behind. He’d devoted his life to his daughter, and from the moment she began to speak and learn about the world, she was full of those questions that no one else asked. But she was the one person he couldn’t give answers to.

Grace had found a new place in his heart, and his life was filled with noise and joy. But the hole was still there. The place where her mother was supposed to be. And in his loneliness, fear of isolation, and naive trust, he’d lost Grace too. For twenty-eight years he’d been trapped in a land without magic, watching her live her life from afar, not knowing who he was. The isolation surrounded him like a dark cloak.

No one asked questions about the man who lived on the outskirts of town in his sizeable empty house. They couldn’t remember. But he remembered everything.

When the curse was broken, and Grace returned, the light came back into his life. But he’d lived so long in the dark that he lived in constant fear of the madness that threatened to swallow him whole. So he pushed it back and devoted himself to her again. They had everything they needed now. They no longer had to forage for mushrooms in the woods just to survive. They had a home full of beautiful things and constant sounds. Her laughter echoed through the halls. Her footsteps on the floorboards woke him first thing every morning. He had a sense of purpose again. But then she would leave for school, and he would be left alone with nothing but his thoughts and his hats. And try as he might, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from turning to that emptiness still present in his heart.

His thoughts turned toward the woman who’d brought that color into his life, and so did Grace’s. She started to question things again. Why there was a hole in her memories where a mother should have been. Why her father spent so much time quietly in his room with all those hats in the middle of the night when he thought she was asleep.

Grace knew her mother must have been special to him, though he never spoke of her and she didn’t even know the woman’s name. She could see it in the madness that seemed to hover on the edge of every word he spoke. Just as clearly as she could see the unknown woman every day when she saw her own face staring back at her in a mirror.

Her father was different than he’d been in the Enchanted Forest before the curse pulled them all away to that new land. She knew there’d been sadness in his heart, but he was better at keeping it from her then. She’d only see it on rare occasions when she couldn’t sleep and would peek out of her bedroom door to see him leaning against the mantle, staring into the flames and twisting a shimmery blue fabric in his hands.

In this new world, he didn’t have as much control over it. His shorter hair was always messy from the times he’d drag his fingers through it in frustration. His once bright blue eyes were etched with a permanent redness. Sometimes she’d catch him staring at the patterns on the wallpaper, and it would take him a moment or two to hear her when she tried to grab his attention. He was always holding something back now, and she would have blamed it on the years of separation if it wasn’t for the fact that he still spent his sleepless nights making hats.

Grace could see her father’s features in her nose and her smile, but her golden hair and dark eyes only led to more questions. She knew she must look more like the woman her father kept hidden in his head. She was desperate to know more.

She could hear him wandering the house at night when she’d lie awake in her bedroom. She saw the shadows under the door when he paced down the hall before settling into the room with the hats. He wouldn’t tell her why he continued to make them. She didn’t think he wanted to return to the Forest where all they had was a small cottage and mushrooms. They had everything they’d ever need here. They had each other again, but he was still searching for something.

Jefferson was muttering to himself in his room down the hall. In all the years she’d spent in Storybrooke, she’d grown accustomed to her bedroom with her foster family. She’d fall asleep to the sound of cars on the street. Their headlights would shimmer across the walls like the scales of a fish. But the big house was silent at night. The silence only made her concern for her father grow.

The girl climbed from her bed and tiptoed to the door. She cracked it open and peeked down the hall to that mysterious room. He usually kept it locked, but now the door was cracked. He always did that at night, just so he could hear her if she needed him.

Grace knew he’d probably hear her coming before she even left her room. She wondered how he would react or if he’d be upset if she bothered him so late at night. But in all her life, both of them, she’d never known him to grow angry with her. He’d always been patient, kind, and gentle. All traits she’d learned to emulate. But there was anger in him, and that was what she could hear in his mutterings.

She considered going back to bed, but she’d caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror across the hall. Even in the dim light, she could see the light color of her hair. So startling a contrast from the color of her eyes. She thought back to the last time she’d slept. When she dreamt of a woman with light hair and dark eyes, who sang her songs in a garden of white roses.

So she slipped out of the door and tiptoed down the hall to the room at the very end. She looked in at where her father was sitting at a large table in the center of the room. She could see him fussing over fabric and thread, ripping and jabbing and muttering. He was so preoccupied with his task and his frustration that he hadn’t heard her over the sound of his own thoughts. He clenched his teeth and mumbled something about the hat “not working” as he broke a string of thread with his teeth.

“Papa?” she asked, quietly, and the man froze. He looked up, and his face instantly morphed back into the one she knew so well. The frustration drained from his features and left behind the face of the man who used to rock her to sleep when she was still small enough to fit comfortably in his arms.

“Grace?” he said, slightly shocked by his sudden return to reality.

He dropped the unfinished hat on the table and stood. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn at dinner, so it was evident that he hadn’t gone to bed. The vest and his shirt were buttoned to the neck, but the scarf he wore around his throat had come loose enough to make out the scars beneath the fabric. He never told her how he got them, but she saw nonetheless.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out his hands to take both of hers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She slid her small hands into his and smiled up at him.

“You didn’t wake me, Papa,” she assured him. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not? What’s the matter?”

He pulled a chair away from the table and instructed her to sit down. She took her seat cautiously as her eyes searched the room and the extensive collection of top hats. She thought the habit was supposed to die with the curse, but it appeared he was just as adamant to continue. She just didn’t know if it was the habit of a twenty-eight-year routine, or if he actually wanted one to take them away.

“Nothing is the matter, Papa,” she promised as he took a seat before her. “I was just thinking too much.” He reached out to trace a finger over her cheek, brushing her hair out of her face. She gave him another smile to reassure him. His expression was still concerned.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. She took a deep breath, and he dropped his hand to his lap to give her his full attention. She laced her fingers on the table in front of her and worked up the courage to ask him the question that had been on her mind since he’d asked her to come home.

“I was thinking about my mother,” she admitted. His expression went grim. Not angry like he’d been when he thought she was sleeping, but dead and devoid of thought. He dropped his eyes to the hat on the other side of the table and sighed heavily. His expression was blank, but it was clear the gears in his mind were whirring with thoughts.

“I knew you were going to ask again. With everything that’s happened.” She nodded slowly.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it. I know that it hurts you. But—I’ve been thinking about her a lot. And sometimes I just wish I knew more about her. Like even her name—and why she’s not here.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment as he stared at the hats that seemed to grow in number with each passing day. She wanted him to say something, anything that would give her a hint about the woman who’d given her life, and likely died to do it. But he didn’t speak, and so she took another deep breath to continue building her case.

“I tried to look for her in the stories. My friend Henry has a book, but there’s nothing about her. Not anywhere. Not even in the movies.” He gave that sigh again and lifted his head, this time staring across the room at the darkened window, where a bronze telescope sat unused and collecting dust.

“She’s in the stories, Grace,” he told her. “She’s in all the stories.” Her eyes widened, and she sat up straighter.

“Really?”

“They’re her stories. At least the ones from this world. She didn’t spend a lot of time in the Enchanted Forest. Maybe that’s why she’s not in Henry’s book. At least not directly. She had her own stories.”

Grace was familiar with them. More specifically with her father’s story. She hadn’t read Henry’s book, but he’d told her about it. She’d learned as much as she could. The story in Henry’s book was real. But the ones from this world, well, the character didn’t seem much like the man in front of her at all. But they rarely did, Henry told her. And as far as Grace knew, there was really only one woman with a friendly connection to the Hatter at all.

“Does that mean,” she started, “that my mother is…?”

“Yes.” He nodded slowly, studying her expressions as she took this new information. She kept the name off her lips even though she knew it well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” That was the question he dreaded the most. He dropped his head into his hands and bit his bottom lip. He suddenly felt exhausted.

“Because the stories in this world aren’t real. At least, they’re not accurate. What happened to her isn’t in the stories, and I didn’t want to burden you with unnecessary pain.” He finally looked up at her, and she could see the redness return to his eyes. She sank lower into her seat and tried to stay strong. So he wouldn’t see her falter.

“So she’s really dead then,” she stated. “Did you see it happen?” A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he swallowed it again.

“She’s gone, Grace.” She breathed out slowly and leaned her head against the back of the chair. “I told you that. Were you expecting a different answer this time?”

“No,” she told him honestly. “I guess I was just hoping there was a way. Like with Henry’s family. They always find a way for everyone to be together.” He reached her hand again and squeezed it. This time he was the one to reassure her.

“We’re together again, Grace,” he told her. “That’s all that matters now. If there were a way, I would find it.” She nodded, and he tried to smile for her.

“Then will you tell me about her? About how you met? I don’t know anything at all. Except for what’s in the stories.” She looked back up at him with renewed excitement. A laugh escaped him. He usually laughed to mask his own pain. It was one of the many reasons people called him mad. But she knew it wasn’t madness. He was suffering and didn’t want to put that suffering on anyone else.

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “It’s late, and you have school in the morning.”

“You promise?” He nodded. He’d never been very good at keeping promises, but he would try for Grace.

“I promise. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

He immediately regretted saying it. He didn’t know what kind of questions she might ask. She jumped up excitedly, and this time the laugh was sincere. It was the result of love and not a nervous reflex to keep people from seeing what he really felt. He stood from his chair and took her hand in his, leading her to the door so she could go back to her room. He bent down and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She smiled, obviously too excited to get any sleep. He knew her thoughts would keep her up, building question after question. But he wanted to put it off. Even just a for a little while longer.

“Goodnight, Papa,” she said. He ruffled her already messy blonde hair and smiled back down at her.

“Goodnight, Grace.”

He watched her skip back down the hall to her room. He waited for the door to shut before closing his own, but he left it cracked so he could hear if she needed anything. He just hoped he didn’t wake her again.

He left his hand resting on the crystal doorknob for a long moment before turning back to face the room. The collection of hats was growing, and he hated that he couldn’t make one that worked. He needed the old hat, but it was severely damaged now. Destroyed. No sign of magic left in it. Not even in the ashes.

He crossed the room and stopped beside a display of useless hats. Then he reached for a drawer and slid it open. A single object rested inside on a silk cushion. He lifted it to eye level and examined the delicate artifact gently in his fingers. It was made of fine porcelain, with red painted roses and a lip dipped in gold.

It was a teacup. That had once been very valuable in gold before gaining value in memory. He set it back down on the cushion and ran his finger along the unused gold lip.

“If there’s a way,” he said to himself, confident that his spoken thoughts wouldn’t be overheard, “I will find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr tag here (indigodrawsthings.tumblr.com/tagged/finding-alice) where you can find gifs, concepts, inspiration, and drawings for the story.
> 
> I started developing the ideas for this story back around season 2 or 3 of Once Upon a Time. So there was no spin-off comic and no Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. This story has nothing to do with either of those. This Alice is not the same Alice that was on the show (either one). I tried to make her a bit closer to the book version, with some Disney thrown in. Though older and with the obvious OUaT twists.
> 
> Updates on Tuesdays!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past

Wonderland was Jefferson’s favorite place to travel. The Enchanted Forest was home, but it was nothing like Wonderland. No other world compared to its unique magic. There were other realms with their own versions of magic, but Wonderland was the most vivid, living place he’d ever crossed into.

From the moment he stepped through his portal, he could smell it on the air. It was a scent akin to fresh grass, pine trees, a field of flowers, and beneath all of that—the rich buttery smell of freshly made cookies.

He heard from various sources that Wonderland smelled different to everyone. It was supposed to feel familiar and safe. Like home. And he knew exactly why it chose those particular scents to him. Because it brought him right back to the cottage he’d grown up in. Specifically, those summers before his father took him under his wing as an apprentice. Those rare days when his mother was home, baking in the house. She’d open the windows up and let in the scents from the surrounding forest. She’d set the table with vases filled with fragrant lilacs, and they’d share buttery cookies together.

Those were the moments when the isolation felt like a dull memory. He remembered feeling safe and happy. Before his father forced him into an apprenticeship he didn’t want. Before he gambled away his family’s small fortune. Before a hat turned into a portal and he took to a life that shamed his mother enough for her to refuse to speak his name.

That feeling of safety and comfort was lost to him now. And after a moment, when the nostalgia finally faded, and he recalled the anger and shame that was still aching inside him, he felt nothing but self-loathing. It was his fault his parents had turned their backs on him, but to shame him and disown him so thoroughly over a few youthful mistakes, he would never forgive them for that. The memories soured his mood. His features straightened and he stepped down the cobbled path toward the glen down the road.

The grass was so tall it stretched high overhead. Almost like a forest of its own. Every once in a while, a giant mushroom would appear in the grass and cast a shadow on the path. The grass was the most vibrant green he’d ever seen. The mushrooms were a perfectly spongy red, with splotches of white spots, and the sky was a continually moving shade of blue with swirling purple clouds.

It was easy to get lost in the wonders of Wonderland, but it was the freedom of it that he enjoyed the most. There were no social guidelines, customs, and etiquette to follow, as far as he knew. When he was just starting out as a portal jumper, it was difficult for him to grasp the ways of each land and remember all the particular customs and social expectations. Something complimentary in one realm might be utterly insulting in another. It had taken years of practice for him to blend in wherever he went. If anything, he was good at pretending he knew what he was doing.

But Wonderland wasn’t like that. It was ruled by a Red Queen who seemed to be feared and hated by her subjects. She’d blocked off the land in sections, so that he’d never seen a human village and never had a reason to try and fit in. If there were social customs in her court, well, he didn’t know about them. The people of Wonderland, the animals anyway, seemed to decide on their own what was proper and what wasn’t. He could set his feet on the table and tea and smash a whole pot, and the hare wouldn't blink an eye. But if he happened to make the rabbit late, he’d get an earful for that. Otherwise, he seemed to be able to do and act as he pleased. It was like a relaxed slouch after a day of holding his spine straight, and his chin turned up.

The road turned off at the end of a sharp hill and headed toward the maze that surrounded the Red Queen’s estate. From this distance, he could see the hedges that led into her private rose gardens, but he never strayed any closer than the glen. He had no wish to insult the only person in Wonderland who might cut off his head if he so much as stepped on the hem of her gown.

The glen was just passed the road beyond a patch of pansies that sang taunting songs about his legs when he traveled nearby. He found the skittish brown hare in an opening between the tall blades of grass. The animal twitched and fidgeted with every movement and nearly jumped out of his furry skin when Jefferson pushed through the tall leaves.

“Oh! Mr. Jefferson!” the timid animal said with a squeak as the man approached.

Jefferson felt his eyes roll into his head. The talking animals in Wonderland weren’t very different from their mute counterparts. Only that they had voices and a lot to say. So while a jittery hare in the Enchanted Forest might end up as lunch, this one would stumble over his words as he told Jefferson of everything in the glen that spooked him. Ranging from walruses to the infamous Bandersnatch.

They also had an unusually annoying habit of referring to everything in semi-formal speech. Mr. Jefferson. Mr. Hare. Miss Dormouse. Mr. Cheshire. It didn’t matter how many times he told them his name was just Jefferson, they always reverted back to Mr. Jefferson. Or Mr. Hatter if they were feeling particularly formal. Which they sometimes decided to do mid-sentence and for no apparent reason.

“It’s just Jefferson,” he reminded the hare as he stopped in the clearing. He laced his fingers into the pockets of his trousers, swinging his jacket behind his back. Wonderland was warm compared to the chill of the Forest, but he didn’t want to leave anything behind. He could never be certain he’d get it back. At least not without a price. “I brought you what you asked for. Do you have what I need?”

The creature shook and trembled. “Oh!” the hare said with a start. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it! Silly me. I left it at home. I can retrieve it now if you don’t mind.” Jefferson sighed and resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently.

“I don’t have all day,” he said, even though time seemed to work much differently in Wonderland. He could stay there all day without wasting an hour in the Enchanted Forest. There was never any telling for sure, though. Sometimes he could spend ten minutes in Wonderland, only to find out a whole day had passed in the Forest.

“You can come around for tea! I do know how much you love tea!”

“I’ve been advised not to eat or drink anything while in Wonderland,” he answered with a flat tone. He could never be sure that the food wouldn’t make him shrink.

“Oh, but it’s just tea. I can make it how your mother did.”

Then the big hare hopped away, and Jefferson watched with narrowed eyes. He didn’t know how the beast knew anything about his mother, let alone how she made her tea, but his curiosity got the better of him. So he followed along anyway.

The hare lived in a burrow not far from the glen. The den was a mixture of underground caverns and an above ground structure. Though the house stood leaning against stilts and had a sagging roof. Jefferson figured that if it weren't for magic and the way Wonderland never seemed to age, the house would have collapsed a long time ago.

A long table had been set out in the center of the hare’s garden. Various teapots and cups and plates were set out as if he expected a large company. Though Jefferson knew from experience that the hare hardly expected anyone at all. He was just always prepared for company and tea, and Jefferson assumed that was why he chattered and trembled with every movement.

He watched the hare bounce toward the table until he appeared in a chair toward the end and reached for a teapot.

“Please, sit and stay for a while,” he asked as the teapot began to shake in his hands. A shrill squeaking came from inside the pot as Jefferson took a seat and propped his legs on the arm of the chair. The hare turned the pot upside down, and a dormouse tumbled out. She quickly ran off to hide in another empty pot. Jefferson held back his disgust. No matter how friendly the mouse was, he wasn’t accustomed to finding them in his dishes.

“Tea?” the hare asked.

“Please?” Jefferson said with a wave of his hand. He looked around the table for what he’d come for, but it was difficult to distinguish in the extensive collection of cups, pots, and pastries.

The hare reached for a nearby teapot and checked the lid to be sure nothing was hiding inside. Then he located an empty cup among the dishes and began to fill it. He spilled more tea onto the lace tablecloth than the cup. Eventually, he managed to get it mostly full and went to lift it into his paws. But Jefferson quickly reached for it, so that the liquid didn’t end up on the table with the rest.

“Thank you,” he said without the slightest hint of genuine appreciation. Until he took a cautious sip and discovered that it tasted exactly the way his mother used to make it. And it was still hot. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at the trembling, bug-eyed march hare. “How did you…?”

“You’ve come for a teacup,” the animal said, interrupting the question before Jefferson could finish. He set the cup down on a saucer on the table.

“I have. I hear it’s fairly valuable. I heard you were the best at procuring this kind of merchandise.”

“The teacup you are looking for is indeed very valuable. Though perhaps not worth much in gold.” The man’s eyebrows rose this time, and he rested his hand on his outstretched knee to regard the hare.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t make a living with anything other than gold, my friend,” he spoke.

“Oh, you’ll get your gold, I’m sure,” the hare stuttered. “But it’s magic your employer wants. The cup you seek is worth more in magic than it is in gold.”

“I can’t buy dinner with magic.”

“Oh, but you do! Or else you would not be here. Not many are gifted with the ability to travel through portals like yourself. I only know of one other like you in Wonderland. Not including Mr. Rabbit.”

“The famous Alice. Yes, I’ve heard much about her.”

“Oh, Miss Alice is very special. Or at least she will be.”

The animal let out a high-pitched giggle as if he was in on a secret that Jefferson was not. Jefferson laughed along with him anyway. He found that the best way to blend in strange lands was to do whatever the locals were doing. He hardly understood half of the things the creatures in Wonderland said anyway, but they appreciated it when you pretended to.

The hare hopped onto the table and began searching through the chaos. “Oh, where is it? Where is it?!” he squeaked as he scuttled around, knocking over dishes and spilling numerous teacups onto the already stained tablecloth. The hare clamored in Jefferson’s direction, and he quickly lifted his cup to save it from the imminent destruction. He took another sip and focused on the creature, who was growing as panicked as the rabbit when late.

“I only came here because I was told you had it. Either you do, or you don’t. You’re not getting your pay if I can’t have mine. I need that cup, or we no longer have a deal,” he said, taking another sip of the hot beverage. He swore it was the best tea he’d ever tasted. But Wonderland had a funny way of making people believe that.

“It was here a moment ago! I saw it before I went and fetched you! Oh, if I’d only remembered to take it. Miss Dormouse? Miss Dormouse!” The dormouse squeaked her way out of another broken teapot and looked up at the hare. She stood on her hind legs and ran her tiny fingers over a tiny pink dress.

“Yes, Mr. Hare?” she asked with an equally small voice.

“Where is the cup? The special cup?” the hare asked.

“Oh, she took it. She did.”

“Who?” Jefferson looked up over his cup, now curious about what the little mouse had to say.

“Miss Alice.”

“She was here?”

The little mouse nodded. So Jefferson swung his legs back over the chair and stood to his feet. He tossed the teacup behind his back as he strolled away from the table, splattering the stepping stones with tea and porcelain.

“Well, I suppose we’re done here,” he said. “Send me a message when you find what I want.”

“Wait! Mr. Jefferson! Mr. Jefferson!” The hare bounded across the table, crashing into cups and pots as he followed.

“I don’t have time to wait around for the cup. When you find it, send word, and I’ll retrieve it. Then we’ll make our trade. Otherwise, we no longer have a deal.”

“Oh, but I do so want that tea, Mr. Jefferson,” the hare begged.

“I don’t work for charity. Find the cup,” he replied, stepping over the low garden fence. He headed back toward the path. This time the hare didn’t follow.

The forest of grass grew quiet as he headed back toward the road. It had been a wasted trip, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to tell his employer that he’d failed. He didn’t know what was so special about the cup, but he’d learned not to ask. The hare said it was valuable in magic, but the magic in Wonderland was very different from the magic in the Enchanted Forest. He wasn’t sure what use it would be in either land, but that wasn't important. He needed the money, and it didn’t matter if the cup was made of solid wood or contained all the magic in the realm, so long as it put food in his belly and silver on his fingers.

When he reached the path again, the sunlight returned to his face. He paused before heading back toward the hill where his portal was waiting. Wonderland was tricky and challenging to navigate on a good day. He was getting used to the way the landscape sometimes changed unexpectedly. He was a naturally curious person, and it was the only reason he’d taken the hare up on his offer for tea. But he knew enough of Wonderland now to know that something odd was happening. It was too quiet.

He’d passed a garden of singing pansies on his way to the glen, but he hadn’t heard them on his way back. No birds were singing. No wind humming through the tall blades of grass. Most of all, he noticed that the warm buttery scent of cookies was absent from the still air. Though he could make out the distant scent of pine and grass. Now it smelled—well, it smelled like the flowers that bloomed on apple trees before the fruit. A sweet, crisp, floral scent.

The only time Wonderland was silent was for two reasons. One, the Red Queen was approaching in her caravan. Or two, another human was in the area. There weren’t many of them in these parts of Wonderland anymore. He’d heard rumors that the Queen was human, but he’d never seen her for himself. And there were supposedly whole villages of humans in other parts of the land far beyond the mazes and hedges, but his portal never took him there, so he never bothered to find out for sure.

The only time he’d ever experienced the sudden silence was when he brought along a visitor to help him obtain a rare mushroom only found in this land. Wonderland had not liked the guest. A caterpillar told him so. But the silence meant that they were paying attention. They’d long grown accustomed to seeing Jefferson stalking through their parts, and so they no longer paid him any attention at all. Whoever this person was warranted silence, which meant the land was listening.

The mouse said Alice took the cup, and now he wondered if he’d found Alice.

He turned on his heel and headed toward the hill where his portal was waiting, but he kept his footsteps soft and his ears alert for sound and movement. On occasion, he’d hear the wind humming through the grass, and once or twice a creature whispered from within.

Then, very suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter. It was a light, airy giggle. But also arrogant. A taunt that got swept up on a breeze and rolled over to him on the hill.

He spun around and looked down at where she stood. Her blue dress was different from the ones worn in his land. It went only to her calves so that her white stockings and shiny black shoes were visible. She wore black ribbons in her golden hair. Even though she was dressed like a young girl, he placed her age at at least eighteen.

She smiled at him with dark eyes and reached into the pocket of her shimmery blue cloak. She held the teacup gently on her fingers. It was a delicately small thing with painted red roses and a gold lip.

“Looking for this, Hatter?” she asked, her voice playful and coy. He smiled as he looked down at her.

“How would you know what I’m after?” he asked. He sauntered slowly toward her.

“We all need gold, don’t we? You can have it.” She slipped the cup back into the pocket of her cloak and returned her eyes to him. “If you can keep up.”

Then she took off at a run in the opposite direction. He bolted after her, knowing just how much money that tiny little cup would get him. But he had to admit, the thrill of the chase was worth more than the gold. It was a lonely life, stealing and trading between lands, and he’d learned not to get close to people. Though he really enjoyed the way the job filled his pockets and kept hunger at bay, he was really in it just for fun.

Her cloak billowed out behind her, as blue as the vibrant sky. Her hair was gold, and she laughed as her black shoes tapped against the stone path. She was fast and seemed to know where she was going. He knew Alice was a portal jumper like he was, but he never took her for a thief.

She turned a corner, and the moment he saw it, he knew the game was over. A gold-framed looking-glass stood still and tall in the middle of the road. It was tall enough so that she could run through the portal like an open door. He reached out as soon as he spotted it, hoping to get that cup before she could get away. His fingers gripped the soft blue fabric, and it slid off her shoulders as she disappeared into the looking-glass. The entire frame vanished in an instant.

He stood, standing in the path much closer to the Queen’s hedge than he’d like. He held a bright blue cloak in his gripped fingers and looked down at it. She’d slid the cup into the pocket, and for a moment he smiled, relishing the satisfaction of his triumph. But then he stretched his fingers into the pocket and came up empty. He frantically reached for the other side and knew before he’d even stuck his hand in that it was empty too.

He had her cloak, but Alice had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to warn you guys that the chapters switch between past and "present." And by present I mean somewhere after like season 2, I think? Things are mostly chill in Storybrooke for a brief period of time. Which is ridiculous because nothing is ever chill in Storybrooke. Honestly, the most unrealistic thing about this story.
> 
> Has anyone watched the new season/reboot? I haven't started watching it yet because I kinda just don't want to. But I'm also curious.
> 
> Also, Happy Halloween!


	3. Chapter 3

Grace was eager to get home after school the next day. She could hardly sit still in class and anxiously took the first seat on the bus so that she could get out as quickly as possible once it stopped out front of her house.

Ever since she’d moved into the house, she would come home from school to find her father waiting for her in the kitchen. He would make her tea in a silver teapot, and they’d sit at the small table in the living room by the front window. He’d sit attentively while she told him about her day and all the things she learned or found interesting. He never talked about himself, and she hated that she barely knew him. That didn’t mean she didn’t try. It was just that whenever she asked questions about his past, he would find a way to turn the focus back on her. He loved hearing her stories about school and her passions and quirks. But when the day ended, and she’d pretend to be asleep in her quiet room, he’d retire to the room with the hats, and she’d remember that she barely knew him at all.

She knew basic things. His name was Jefferson. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He took his tea with milk and one small teaspoon of sugar, which she thought just couldn’t possibly be sweet enough to be tolerable. He always drank out of a teacup with a saucer, no matter what. And he always took his tea with one cookie. Just one. And he’d save the rest for her.

There wasn’t much else she knew about him. She knew he’d come from the Enchanted Forest like the others. But she didn’t know where he was born or what his childhood was like. She didn’t know the names of her grandparents, let alone why she never met them. She knew he was a portal jumper, but not how he’d become one. She didn’t know what his favorite color was or if he liked to sing. She didn’t even know the name of her own mother.

That was, she didn’t know until the night before.

She suspected once that her mother might be the famous Alice, but every time it came up she found reasons for why it couldn’t be. In the stories, Alice had come from a place like England, which would make her too old to be her mother. Or maybe she’d come from another world where time stood still. Henry said places like that existed also, and many of those stories wound up in their own books. Alice’s story was a book. She tried to read it, just to catch a glimpse of her father, but the character was so vastly different from him that she couldn’t make sense of what was based on truth and what was a lie. If Alice was her mother, then apparently something was left out.

And none of the stories ever suggested Alice had a child. They definitely didn’t mention the fact that she’d had a child with the one they called the “Mad Hatter.” She knew the hatter was her father. If his obsession with hats and the whispers of his madness hadn’t suggested it, Henry’s book confirmed it. But there was no mention of her mother at all.

“Hello, my darling,” he said when she entered the house after school. She dropped her backpack on the floor in the entryway and rushed across the room to give him a hug. She gave him the same squeeze every day, and every day he’d lift her off her feet and hold her as if it was for the first time in twenty-eight years.

But the moment only lasted for a few seconds before he set her down and she jumped away, eager to get started on tea so she could ask the questions that had been building up all day. Jefferson sensed her hurry and took his time pouring out their tea. He made a show of taking as long as possible with milk and sugar. She reached for a cookie as she waited, and swung her feet back and forth. His eyes were red again. She suspected he hadn’t slept a wink.

He took a seat and then carefully sipped tea from a wide white cup, prolonging the inevitable barrage of questions. When his blue eyes finally met hers, he could see that she was barely containing her excitement. So he dropped his head in defeat and sighed.

“Alright, alright. Get it out,” he said. She let out a giggle.

“I want to know everything,” she started, nearly knocking over her teacup in her haste to set her cookie down. His eyebrows rose, making his eyes go wide in a silly face that always made her smile. She just couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked.

“How about we narrow it down,” he replied.

“What did she look like? Where did she come from? How did you meet? Were you married? Did she live in our cottage? What happened to all her things? What about her family?”

His face held onto the same startled expression as he watched the words tumble out of her mouth. He made a great emphasis to show mock concern, and when she finally stopped for breath, he jumped in to quiet her long enough to breathe between questions.

“One at a time,” he insisted. So she took a deep breath and let it go.

“Her name was Alice,” she stated. He sipped his cup and nodded slowly.

“Indeed.”

“What did she look like?”

“She looked like you. Hair like gold. Eyes dark like ink. I used to tell her that she had her secrets written in them.” He cleared his throat and reached for his cup again.

“Was she pretty?”

“The second most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. After you, of course.” She giggled again.

“Where did she come from? Was it England? Or was it somewhere else?” He seemed to think on this for a moment, purposefully taking his time answering.

“It was another realm, not as much magic as there was in other places,” he told her. “Like England, I suppose. I can see how they’d be mistaken.”

“Tell me about her. What was she like?” He reached for the single cookie he always took with his tea, leaving the rest for her.

“She was a lady,” he explained. “A proper lady. Her father had some sort of fancy title that made him powerful. A landowner. Lord or baron or something. They had a lot of plans for her. But she was—not what they wanted her to be. She had a thirst for adventure and refused to be tied down by the standards of high society.”

“How did she get to Wonderland?”

“She fell through a rabbit hole. The rabbit was a portal jumper too. She was a few years younger than you at the time,” he said with a nod. She felt giddy excitement bubble inside her chest, and she jumped up to sit on her knees, nearly knocking the whole table over. He barely noticed it. After spending so much time taking tea with jittery hares, he didn’t so much as blink when the table shifted.

“So that part of the story was true?” He nodded once again.

“That part.”

“Is that how you met? In the movie, she met you when you had tea the hare.” He looked alarmed. Almost offended. Not by her words, but the suggestion that she was anything like the dumpy character they portrayed him as. He turned his stricken eyes on her.

“Goodness, no,” he said with a shake of his head.

He set the teacup down on the saucer and crossed his arms over the table, leaning so he could level his face with hers. He remembered the way Alice would walk him through proper table manners. He wasn’t supposed to sit slouched with his elbows on the table. Grace wasn’t supposed to sit on her knees and bump up and down. Alice would have encouraged this misbehavior just for the freedom that came with being improper. He remembered the way she used to smile when she leaned on her elbows and loudly slurped her tea. It was her own private rebellion.

“I’m not half as mad as that,” he told Grace with a lopsided grin.

“Tell me. Tell me,” she begged, making the china shudder in her excitement. His smile fell as he gazed out of the window. Storybrooke was visible in the distance. Close enough for him to know every street, lane, and alley, but far enough away so that he never really felt like he belonged.

“She was a thief,” he said. He looked back at her face just to see the surprised look in her brown eyes. Then he sat back in his seat and lifted his cup again.

“A thief?” she repeated. He nodded once.

“A thief,” he confirmed. “She was a portal jumper. From a world where titles and reputation were of great importance. Women couldn’t hold titles or own land. She was expected to be owned by her father until she could be passed off to a husband.” Her expression went from excited to horrified. He gave her a pointed look. “You can imagine how well that went over with her. She was curious. Adventurous. Vivacious. But she had kindness in her. She was a lot like you.” When she smiled, he drained his cup and set it aside.

“No, don’t finish. I want to know more,” she pleaded. He reached for the teapot to pour himself another cup. He noticed that she’d barely touched hers, but refilled it anyway.

“Ali…” he paused to clear his throat as if the name was too painful for him to speak out loud, “your mother—didn’t like being told what to do. Not by anyone. She was expected to find a husband while she was young. A rich husband with another one of those fancy titles. She had to be obedient and silent. Could never go anywhere or do anything. She wanted to escape that. Being a portal jumper granted her a few liberties she wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

“So she was like you. She could travel through realms?” He shrugged, stirring the sugar into his tea with a tiny silver spoon.

“Wonderland was the only realm she could travel to on her own. She discovered it by accident, but once she got the hang of portal jumping, there was nothing that could stop her. Wonderland isn’t like the movie and the books, though. It’s a dangerous place. And not really the kind of place she wanted to call home. But the things you could find in Wonderland were worth something if you found the right buyer. The only way a woman like her could escape is if she had her own fortune.”

“So she had a good reason to steal?” He gave her another look.

“Of course,” he said. “We portal jumpers didn’t steal just for the thrill of it. Although….” He gave a quick shrug again, making a silly face that brought a smile to her lips. “That was part of it.” He sipped his tea, and then a thought occurred to him. “Not that you should ever take up stealing for a living.” She smiled.

“You were a thief too?” He made a lot of hand gestures as he debated whether or not he should answer that question honestly. He’d done a lot worse than just stealing, but that wasn’t what she asked.

“I like to think I was an honorable thief,” he said, even though that wasn’t true either. “I had to survive somehow.” She shook her head, smiling again.

“I just don’t want you to be in any trouble, Papa.” He sighed wistfully.

“I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘thief,’” he finally concluded. “And I suppose she wouldn’t have either. We were—procurers of unique artifacts. We usually did trades and deals. We only stole when we had no other choice. And only when it was vital. Sometimes it was as simple as trading a teacup for gold or a single rose plucked from a garden. Some of those things were hardly considered stolen, right? But sometimes they threatened to take your head. I took the job because I needed to live. She took the job to escape her life.”

“I see.”

“But no,” he said with another shake of his head, answering a question she hadn’t asked. “She was just a child when she fell through the rabbit hole. But not when she started—trading. I didn’t know her when she was younger. We met when we went for the same artifact, and she stole it right out from under me.” Her eyes got wide, and he gave her another smile. Then he drained the last of his cup and set it back down.

“I think that’s enough for today, Grace. Do you have homework to do?” He stood and lifted the tray from the table. She looked disappointed.

“But I have so much more to ask you,” she said. He reached out and touched his thumb to the tip of her nose like a button.

“All in time, sweetheart,” he said.

Even though he was smiling, she could see the hurt in his eyes and the way the tray trembled as he gripped it tight in his hands. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep the information from her, or that he thought she wasn’t strong enough to handle it. It was that he wasn’t. She watched him carry the tray back to the kitchen and then leaned against the back of her chair. She didn’t want to hurt her father, but there was so much more she needed to know. For starters, she wanted to know why he still hadn't spoken her name.


	4. Chapter 4

Alice was a thief. A sneaky little thief. Jefferson returned home to the Enchanted Forest and managed a quick pickpocket job in the market that got him a mediocre meal. Even though he wasn’t hungry, his pride was hurt. The teacup was supposed to be an easy job that gave him a place to stay and warm food to last for at least a week. Instead, he slept against a tree in the woods, twirling his hat in his hands and unable to sleep.

His employer didn’t have another job lined up after the cup. He didn’t know what was so unique about it. The hare had plenty of cups, but that one was somehow different from all the rest. The hare said it had magic, and if Alice had been looking for it too, then it meant someone else knew about that magic. Someone from a different land. He had to find out who was looking for it, though he hadn’t told his employer about his new competition. He wasn’t sure why.

He returned to Wonderland the very next day anyway. He stepped out of his portal and out onto the road. The familiar scents hit him like a wall of nostalgia, but he pushed them away before the pain could settle back in. He marched down the road in search of the hare and his decrepit burrow. He was going to get information from the hare if he had to shake it out of him. He wanted to know everything about Alice, her employer, where she was from, and why she wanted that silly teacup anyway.

Alice found him first. He pushed through the tall blades of grass, uncertain of where the hare’s burrow was now. Sometimes Wonderland changed without warning. Something would be there one day and somewhere else the next. The residents of the realm never seemed to notice, but it was always significant enough to startle him. After he passed the whispering pansies, he knew he was at least headed in the right direction.

“Hello,” a voice said as chimney smoke appeared in the sky above the tall blades of grass. Jefferson jumped before turning around to face her.

It took him a moment to respond. She was leaning against a mushroom in a dress a slightly more vibrant shade of cyan. She had no cloak this time, and she’d pulled the ribbons from her hair so that the golden strands hung wavy and soft around her shoulders.

He was briefly stunned beyond the ability to speak. It was easy to overlook the fact that she’d tricked him so dishonestly. That was why beautiful women made good thieves, he’d been told. He tried not to let her win him over with her sly smile and delicately pink lips. She held her arms behind her back in a posture of playfulness and mock innocence.

“You robbed me,” he stated, pointing a finger at her. He stepped forward as the momentary shock wore off. Her grin grew more full, and he couldn’t help but picture the cat that stalked the trees in the nearby woods.

“I did no such thing,” she said. “The cup was never yours.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I work for me.”

“Who wants the cup?”

“Maybe I wanted the cup. It’s pretty. Maybe I have a whole collection of pretty things I steal just because I like them.”

“I went hungry last night because of that pretty thing.” Her playful smile fell, and her eyes pinched with concern.

“Did you really?” she asked, her concern seemed genuine.

He almost believed she actually did care. But her clothes, her shoes, everything about her screamed wealth. Even from another realm, she had to live comfortably. She didn’t steal for food. She did it for fun. And he knew that people who came from wealth often cared very little for those who didn’t. Wealth wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Jefferson, but only because he lied, cheated, and stole just to get a taste of it.

“You think I do this because it’s fun?” he asked her. “I slept beneath a tree last night. Starving. There were ogres.” It had actually been a rather pleasant night, but he didn’t want her to know that. There could have been ogres. Though he wasn’t sure she even knew what an ogre was.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him anyway. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have toyed with you if I’d known you’d go hungry.”

“Yes, you would have. I know plenty of women just like you. You take from the poor without any care for where they sleep and what they eat. What if I had a child to feed? Would you care then? Or do you want the poor to starve so the rich can thrive?” She pushed away from the mushroom, pink in the cheeks and obviously offended.

“I would never steal from a child. I don’t care what kind of person you think I am. I know who you are and I know you don’t have a child. Don’t try to play on my sympathy. You think I enjoy this life? That I do it for fun?”

“I think if you have enough money for gowns like that, then you have enough to eat. As far as I’m concerned, you might as well be royalty. And therefore you had no reason to take that cup from me.”

“I didn’t take anything from you. We had the same objective, and I’m simply better than you. You have plenty of silver on your knuckles. If you went hungry last night, it was your own stupid fault.” He gripped his fist tightly, feeling the rings dig into his skin.

“These are all that’s left of my family. I don’t wear them for fashion.” That was another lie, but she didn’t need to know that. Making her feel guilty was tending to his wounded pride.

“I never intended for you to go hungry over a trade,” she decided. “If you want the bloody cup back, I can give it to you.”

He’d actually forgotten about the cup. In his anger over his bruised ego, he’d forgotten the whole reason he was angry in the first place. To get the cup so he could have a nice bed and food to sleep in until his employer sent him on another job. He wanted the luxury the cup was going to give him, and he didn’t want to settle for anything less.

“You mean you haven’t traded it off yet?” he asked.

She shook her head and took a step forward. Even her steps were playful. Almost like a dance as she kept her hands behind her back. She was shorter than him, and so when she reached him, she was forced to look up into his blue eyes. The smile returned, and the scent of freshly blooming apple trees washed over him.

“I haven’t even started looking for a buyer,” she admitted. “I figured if a man was willing to chase me for it, it might be worth more to keep around.”

“Of course,” he growled, though his voice was quickly losing its edge. “Because you already have everything you could want.”

Her expression darkened. Her nostrils flared, and she pinched her lips. She was so close that the scent of apple blossoms was making his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to bury his face in her golden waves and feel her warmth against his chest. But he was angry. Angry that Wonderland was getting to his head.

She shifted on her feet and procured the cup from behind her back. He’d been staring so intensely into her eyes that he didn’t notice she had it until it was occupying the very little space between them. It was the right cup, with the fine porcelain, painted red roses, and gold lip. He took it from her hands and examined it in the bright sunlight.

“You’ve had this all along?” he asked as he checked the markings on the bottom just to be sure.

“You said it yourself,” she replied. “I have everything I could want.” The words sounded bitter on her lips. She spoke with a condescending tone and sneered as she turned her back on him and trotted back through the grass toward the road.

He got what he wanted, but instead of relief, he just felt disappointed. It had been too easy. He liked playing games with her. His pride was injured yes, but the chase was over so quickly. All he had to do was tell her he’d gone hungry and she’d rolled over and showed her belly. Giving in without questioning the validity of his lies. Perhaps she wasn’t as heartless as he thought. And it wasn’t disappointment, he realized, but guilt.

He hurried to follow after her, but she was quick on her feet in her shiny black shoes. She’d already reached the road by the time he caught up with her.

“I still have your cloak,” he said as she turned onto the road and headed to wherever she must have left her portal. She had no trouble navigating Wonderland’s tricky landscape.

“You can keep it. Might be able to fetch a bit of gold for it,” she responded, keeping her head high as she marched forward. He got the feeling she intended it as an insult. “Might get to eat tonight. I hope an oogle doesn’t eat you.”

“Ogre.”

She huffed. He could sense her irritation. He’d bruised her pride too. She had her lips pinched tight and her spine straight and poised as she marched. Her hair bounced golden and free as it swung behind her back. The bodice of her gown was done up in what looked like hundreds of buttons. He couldn’t imagine how frustratingly long it must take for her to dress. Then he wondered how frustratingly long it would take to get her out of the gown. A thrill ran through his body as he imagined unbuttoning each and every one of them. Slowly. Maybe with his teeth.

He rushed to pass her and turned so that he could walk backward and face her.

“What do you steal for, if you don’t steal for food and shelter?” he asked, tossing the delicate cup in his hands as if he hadn’t put up such a fight for it. She stopped in the road and put her hands on her hips.

“And what exactly makes you think my business is your business?” she quipped. “I don’t interfere with your work, and you don’t interfere with mine.”

“Ah, but you have interfered with my work. You did so yesterday when you stole this cup right out from under me.”

“I traded for that cup just as fairly as you would have. It just so happens that we had the same objective. I got it first because I’m better and faster. And now I’ll have to count it among my losses. Just make sure you give that hare the tea you promised, or I will hunt you down and smash the stupid cup against the side of your head.” She was infuriating. He wanted to kiss her.

“And your employer won’t be angry with you for not bringing it back?”

“I have no employer. Only buyers. I won’t go hungry.”

She moved passed him and continued on her way. He followed her around the bed in the road. The looking-glass portal appeared just a few yards away.

“And you won’t tell me what you needed this cup for?” he questioned.

“I won’t,” she agreed.

“I told you what I needed it for.”

“And that’s your business to tell as you please.” She reached the frame of gold roses and vines and turned around to face him. She held her head high, though she was still forced to look up at him. There was a look of arrogance and superiority on her face, something she’d learned from years in high society. But then it wavered, and her eyes narrowed. A smile played on her lips. She looked him up and down. “I hope the cup serves you well, Mr. Hatter.”

“Jefferson,” he supplied for her.

“Mr. Jefferson.”

“Just Jefferson. Actually.” She looked him up and down again.

“All right, Just Jefferson. I hope you sleep in a warm bed tonight with a full stomach. Perhaps we will see each other again.”

Wonderland had a remarkable way of making things insatiably enticing. He’d barely just met the woman, officially, and the words “warm” and “bed” were enough to make him lick his lips in anticipation. She smelled like apple blossoms and sweet things, and he couldn’t get the image of all those undone buttons out of his head. Wonderland was remarkable indeed.

“Oh, I do look forward to it, Miss Alice,” he said as he lifted her hand. He pressed his lips against her knuckles, taking in the warm feel of her skin beneath his lips. She caught the implications of his tone, and the intimacy of his lips on her bare skin made her smile.

“Just Alice,” she told him. “And as a parting word or warning, Just Jefferson.” She slid her hand out of his, though he could detect the same coyness in her tone and the emphasis on his name. “The next time we meet, and I’m certain we will,” she moved closer to him. So close he could kiss her without having to reach too far, “run faster,” she said. Then she slipped through the portal and vanished.

He slept under a tree again that night, but instead of a bruised ego and anger, he smiled to himself as he twisted the teacup around in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, buddies and pals. I draw these two nerds a lot. Idk if I mentioned that. You can check them out on my Tumblr tag here (https://indigodrawsthings.tumblr.com/tagged/finding-alice) if you want. Or I can post them individually with the chapters they relate to, so you don't get some spoilers. Though they won't be in the order that I created them. Because I jump around. Still kinda wanna do the chapter illustrations. But I'll probably just stick to a handful here and there. And post them on that tag on Tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

Grace was the spitting image of her mother. It was no surprise to Jefferson since she’d been born with hair like gold and eyes that grew darker as she got older, but sometimes it still shocked him when he’d see Alice in more than just her physical features. When she took on traits or laughed a certain way. Some part of Alice still existed in Storybrooke. Grace was a constant reminder that he hadn’t imagined Alice at all.

Every so often Alice would shine through despite the fact that they’d never met. Grace acted like Jefferson, speaking like him and mimicking him in the way she swung her hands around when she spoke. Or the silly way she grinned. But now she was sitting at the kitchen table, swinging her legs back and forth. She leaned on her hand as she scribbled on a worksheet from school. She was humming a song. The way Alice used to hum whenever she read books or cooked in the little cottage they shared so briefly before Wonderland took her away.

Grace couldn’t know about Alice’s quirks. She’d only known her long enough to grow in her womb and not a moment longer. Grace never got to hear her mother sing above her cradle. And since Jefferson never spoke of her, Grace couldn’t know the songs of Alice’s world.

He returned to the kitchen counter and leaned against it to rub his eyes. He took a deep breath and waited for the flood of memories to pass. Grace continued to hum behind him, but she didn’t sound like Alice. She sounded like Grace, and he was fairly sure he’d heard that song on one of her morning cartoons. He took comfort in that difference.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Alice since Grace began the quest for more information. He never wanted to talk about her or tell Grace what really happened. He knew someday she’d grow curious, a trait she’d gotten from both of her parents, and he would be forced to relive the memories he tried to stuff away. So much time had passed since Alice was taken from them. Almost thirty years since he’d woken up in a strange house in a new land where he’d been forced to watch his daughter live her life without him.

Grace was the one good thing he’d done in all his life. The one good choice he made in a long list of dangerous and reckless decisions. Of course, he didn’t regret Alice or the moments they shared. But he regretted their youthful ignorance, the mistakes they made, the choices that led him there. He was too young to be raising a child alone. They could have avoided that. If they’d just stayed away from Wonderland. If he’d only listened to Alice. If Alice had just listened to him. If Grace had just been born anywhere other than Wonderland.

The humming halted, and silence filled the kitchen. They were the only two people in the large house, and there weren’t many neighbors. Regina wanted him to feel alone and isolated again, nothing but a view of town and the house his daughter lived in with her foster family. The silence overwhelmed him, and he tried to avoid it whenever Grace was home from school. He cleared his throat and went back to work on preparing dinner.

“Is everything okay, Papa?” she asked from the table.

“Everything is fine,” he assured her.

He sent her a smile over his shoulder, but she cocked her head to the side. She didn’t believe it. He turned back around and made himself busy chopping vegetables. He hardly cooked at all in the twenty-eight years they were apart, but now that she was there again he tried to cook every night. They were always trying new things, testing the flavors of this new world. The only thing they agreed to never eat again was mushrooms.

“I was just thinking,” he told her.

“About what?” she asked.

“About the questions you’ve been asking. About your mother.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded faded and distant. As if she could sense her curiosity was causing him pain. “I know it hurts, Papa.” He took another deep breath. She watched his shoulders rise and fall, but he kept his back to her so that he didn’t have to put on a mask and pretend he was just fine.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m keeping things from you. It’s just—it’s not easy for me to talk about. It’s going to break your heart in the end.” The chair slid against the tile as she pushed away from the table. She appeared at his side a moment later. He felt her small hand on his elbow, and he knelt to her level and touched his thumb to her nose. It never failed to make her smile.

“We’ll work through it together,” she promised. His expression went dark again, but he tried to mask it with a smile of his own.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said. She knew he truly believed it. She didn’t know how to tell him she thought he deserved more. She knew he wasn’t happy. At least not as happy as he should be.

“I just…” she started, “I feel like it will help the both of us if we talk about her. We never have before. I didn’t even know her name until yesterday.”

“I know,” he replied. He looked guilty, and she squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It’s just never been easy for me to talk about.”

“You loved her.” His eyes went glassy and red again. She knew the answer before he voiced it.

“I did. I always will,” he confirmed. His voice cracked, and her heart ached. Her eyes watered even though she’d never met the woman.

“I want to love her too,” she pleaded. Her voice sounded so soft and sad that he pinched his eyes shut. “I want to miss her like you do.”

He pulled away from her and leaned against the counter as he dropped to the floor. Then he rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Grace sniffed as she took the place beside him. She was surprised at how easily the sorrow came to her. She’d never known her mother and had lived her entire life without her. How could she mourn for someone she’d never known? The conversation had turned disconsolate, and she felt the grief deep within her heart. She didn’t want to hurt her father, but it was a loss they both had to share.

She sniffed, and Jefferson reached out a hand to grasp hers. He held it on his knee as he covered his face with his other hand. He finally moved and turned his red eyes on the kitchen window. The sun was going down and slashed the sky with deep shades of orange. His eyes were wet and even though time had passed, and he should have had plenty of time to grieve and move on, he never would.

It was true love, Grace thought. The same kind that always found a way to persevere. It could save lives. And no matter how much time passed, a person couldn’t recover from losing that kind of love. She had no doubt Alice had been that love for Jefferson.

He sniffed a few times before stretching his arm out over his knee. He squeezed his fist and focused his attention on that, though he didn’t release his grip on her hand.

“My first memory of her,” he said, “was her laugh.” Then he smiled, before looking at Grace. “She had a playful laugh. She was always like that. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be serious when she had to be, but she’d come from a place where she couldn’t laugh freely. So she liked to play games. She liked being free. Sometimes she was very sneaky. Like you.” Grace smiled and rested her head on her father’s knee as he spoke. Dinner was long forgotten on the counter.

He still seemed jittery and nervous as he twisted his fingers and bounced his other knee. He couldn’t look at her for very long before turning away again.

“I had a job. Something I could only find in Wonderland. Something with a kind of magic. I never did find out what it was, just that my employer was willing to pay a lot of money for it. She got to it first. She wanted me to race her for it.”

“Did you?” she asked. He nodded quickly.

“I tried. She was fast. And clever. And in my own defense, she had a head start. But she stuck it into the pocket of her cloak and ran for her portal. I got the cloak, but when I reached into the pockets—nothing was there.”

“Did you ever get it?” His eyebrows furrowed as he twisted his fingers.

“The very next day.”

“What happened?”

“I went back to Wonderland to find out more about her. I wanted to know who she worked for. She found me first.”

“Did she make you race again?” He laughed and shook his head.

“No, she was kind to me. I told her I needed the money and without it, I was sleeping in the woods. As soon as I told her I’d gone hungry, she handed it right over. She always took care of other people. Gave things up sometimes so others could have them. Her life, for instance.”

His voice went dark. Not in the usual soft way he spoke to Grace. Now it seemed like he was thinking out loud. Angry at Alice for being kind enough to give her life for them.

“How did you fall in love?” Grace prodded. She didn’t want his words to fade away. Even though she was hungry, she didn’t want him to stop talking. He smiled again as he looked down at his twisting fingers. His eyes had gone soft even though she could still see the sheen of moisture in them.

“Wonderland has a way of making everything seem more magical and wonderful than it really is. The food tastes better. Colors are brighter. It smells like your safest, happiest memories. That’s how it draws you in. You go mad staying in a place like that for too long. It was difficult not to fall in love with her there.” Grace didn’t like the sound of that. As if he was blaming Wonderland for how he felt. But that couldn’t be true. Not if he still felt her loss so sharply.

“Wonderland couldn’t have made you love her so much,” she remarked.

He looked back at the window and shook his head. He didn't really see what was beyond the glass. He was in another time and place, thinking of another sky in a different world. The scarf tucked into his shirt had come loose around his throat. Violent pink scars wrapped around his neck. She was always curious about them since she was sure he didn’t have them before. But she could never bring herself to ask about what happened when they were apart. And he never brought anything up if she didn’t ask first.

“No,” he agreed, but his voice sounded far away again. “Wonderland just made it unavoidable. I didn’t want to fall in love. Wonderland didn’t give us a choice. Then it took her away. It lures you in with false safety—and then it takes everything from you.”

He looked back at her, making sure that she didn’t carry any of his guilt. He was happy to have Grace. The price was steep, but the moment they knew about her, they made a promise to pay whatever price they could so that she could live. Jefferson expected to give his own life for them, and the regret he felt for Alice’s death would haunt him forever.

“She loved you,” he told her. “She didn’t know you very long, but she loved you. Remember that.”

Grace didn’t know what to say, so she looked back at the tiles on the floor and thought about how he’d never actually said her name. Not once. He confirmed it when Grace voiced it, and almost said it once, but he’d never said the name. Grace wanted to hear it. Maybe hearing it would bring them one step closer to healing. Or perhaps to help her connect to the woman who’d apparently loved her.

“Can you say her name?” she asked as she turned her eyes back to him. He squeezed her hand.

“Her name was Alice,” he told her. "She was my Alice. And she was everything to me."


	6. Chapter 6

Her name was Alice. Jefferson couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knew Wonderland could exacerbate emotions. The tea he’d tasted in the hare’s garden was the best tea he’d had since his mother made it for him as a child. But once he returned to the Enchanted Forest, he knew the tea hadn’t been special at all. Wonderland just made him believe that. It was one of the many reasons he was warned against eating or drinking there in the first place. “Wonderland wants you to stay,” he’d been told. “So that you never want to leave.”

Emotions in Wonderland were difficult to control. The locals told him that the Red Queen had once been a good and just queen alongside her sister, The White Queen. But jealousy had taken root in her heart and turned her dark and violent. Her emotions were uncontrolled, and they’d mutated into rage. In Jefferson’s case, a minor feeling of attraction for a girl he’d only met once, quickly turned into passion.

Sometimes it was difficult to shake the feelings once he’d returned home and his mind and emotions had time to settle again. His pride was no longer bruised, and he felt guilty for lying to Alice about his state just to get his hands on that cup. And then he’d been unable to part with it. He thought after a few days his heart, and his mind, and especially his body would return to normal. He would take the cup to his employer and forget all about his meeting with Alice until their paths inevitably crossed again.

It just never happened. Alice stayed on his mind for days. He stuck to pickpocketing close to home or stealing from unattended pack mules and horses. He thought of her dress with all those buttons. He thought of her lips, pink like apple blossoms.

He knew nothing about her. He heard rumors in Wonderland. She was famous there. Everyone knew the story of the little girl who’d fallen through the rabbit’s hole and caused trouble for the Red Queen. She’d left for a time, then returned with a portal of her own. She ended up creating even more mischief as an adult when she took to a life of thieving and trading. The residents of Wonderland, outside of the Queen’s court, seemed to love her. They had high expectations for her, and he’d heard numerous stories about how she was going to save them all from the Red Queen’s wrath and the Jabberwock's teeth.

But he didn’t know about her hopes and dreams, or her reason for choosing the life she now led. He didn’t know about her portal or how she managed to fall through one at such a young age, or even how she found her way back. He wondered if she could travel to other worlds like he did. Maybe even the space between them. If she could come to the Enchanted Forest—maybe she could stay.

Jefferson dreamed about her as he slept under the trees at night. The teacup would have given him a room to rent and food to eat, but somehow he just couldn’t part with it. When he’d gone to his employer that day, he found himself lying about the cup he had wrapped up in her cloak and stored in a hollowed out tree trunk. He told himself the feelings would go away in a day or two and he could return with the cup and sell the cloak. Everything would fade away as it always did when he took fancy with a woman.

But she was haunting him. And he wanted desperately to see her again.

He returned to Wonderland once he was confident its hold on him had lifted. He stepped through his portal into bright sunshine. The scents washed over him like a warm and welcoming bath. Inviting him in and making him feel like he never wanted to leave.

It took him a moment to realize the scent was different. He stood on the road and looked around at the familiar grass and swirling sky. The smell of grass and earth was ever present, but not that sweet buttery scent that took him right back to his childhood home. He tried to place the scent now, and since his mind had already been on her all day, it didn’t take him very long.

The scent was sweet. Almost like apples, but more floral and crisp. Not like the fruit but the blossoms that preceded them. Like Alice. Or at least, the scent that Wonderland had chosen for her.

He wasn’t sure what that meant. Wonderland had never changed for him before. Either he recognized that he’d spent so much time thinking about the girl. Or she was nearby, and Wonderland had just altered itself to her.

His employer had raged for several days about the missing cup, but eventually gave up and sent Jefferson off with a new task. It was a simple one, with a minimal payout. Just a flutterby. But the flutterbies in Wonderland weren’t like any butterflies he knew. Their wings were soft and delicate like thin slices of honeyed sponge-cake. Whoever wanted the flutterby was probably going to eat it, and he really hoped they weren’t as self-aware and verbal like the caterpillar, who turned riddles into smoke rings, or the flowers that frequently mocked him.

He hated bringing over creatures who were sentient. He tried to live a life free of guilt and carrying a living talking creature through his portal was sentencing it to a lesser life. But the portal was wise enough to know the difference. He’d never be able to cross over with something like the hare or the caterpillar. Unless he traded it out with another body. He wasn’t sure about the pansies since they were still very much just flowers who happened to have voices. The portal asked a life for a life. Or at the very least, a body for a body. And his heart hadn’t darkened enough to abandon someone to the wilds of Wonderland just for the sake of a few coins.

He’d save that for when he was really desperate.

The scent of apple blossoms lingered in the air, and once or twice he thought he caught the sound of Alice’s giggle on the warm west wind. But only tracked the sound to a patch of pansies who mimicked her voice just to laugh and tease him. He threatened to pluck them out of the dirt in revenge, but they called his bluff and taunted him as he walked away.

The flutterby was an easy catch. A whole swarm of them flew in on the western wind and settled on a giant red mushroom, taking the shape of a loaf of bread. He startled them when he approached, but they were close enough in reach that he could guide one away from its group when they took flight. The delicate creature settled inside a metal tin with holes poked into the lid.

It didn’t speak or scream, but he could hear it fluttering around inside the tin as he spent the rest of the day biding his time and hoping Alice would show up. She never did. He returned to his portal reluctantly, and it allowed him through with his catch, proving the creature wasn’t capable of holding a conversation. Though it grew silent once they crossed over, and he wasn’t sure what happened to it after that.

His employer was pleased with the catch either way. Jefferson was given his pay without knowing the fate of the poor creature. So he returned to the woods where he’d hidden his belongings in Alice’s cloak in the tree trunk. He swung the sack over his shoulder and whistled as he walked toward town to find an inn for the night. He set the hat on top of his head, and a thought struck him hard enough to silence his song and halt his footsteps.

He didn’t know if Alice could travel anywhere other than Wonderland, but he could. And he had something that belonged to her. The cloak could possibly tether him to her realm. Of course, he’d never tried anything like that, but it sounded good in theory and wouldn’t hurt to test it. So he hurried to the inn where he could hide the cup and open a portal to wherever she may be. It could be dangerous since he had no idea which land she came from.

But when he stood on the bed, holding onto a banister and looking down at the swirling vortex of purple and light, he decided he didn’t care. It was all for the thrill of the chase, he concluded. And he laughed as he leaped inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Grace didn’t continue her questioning after Jefferson spoke her mother’s name out loud. He’d gone silent and did nothing but stare at the darkening window for a long time. She still had so many questions to ask. She wanted to know all about her mother’s life. And how it ended too. But seeing her father’s facade of happiness slip just to say her name, it broke her heart.

He’d always been a source of strength for her. Even when others called him mad or when her classmates whispered about him behind her back. He was always there, always smiling, and always trying to shield her from all the evils he’d seen. It hurt to see him so broken on the kitchen floor. He was no longer poised and held together like a rock. He was a river of emotions now.

The gurgle of her empty stomach was the sound that broke through his darkness and held the river back like a dam. He blinked several times and turned his eyes back to her as if he was just noticing she was there, even though they’d been clasping hands.

“You’re hungry,” he stated.

“I’m all right, Papa,” she replied. But he wouldn’t hear it. He hopped onto his feet and reached down to lift her back up. Then he was on the move again, shuffling around the kitchen to finish dinner.

“You should finish your homework.” She sighed as she watched him rebuild the wall and bury his emotions again. But she stepped back and relented. He would tell her in time. She just had to be patient.

“Yes, Papa,” she said. She returned to the table to get back to work. It was difficult to concentrate now, though, as her father bumbled around the room muttering to himself. “What’s your favorite color?” she asked. He stilled and turned back to her with reddened eyes.

“What?” he questioned. She tapped her pencil on the table.

“Your favorite color.” He looked away, perplexed. It was the last thing he expected her to ask.

“What’s yours?” was his response. She sighed and shook her head, smiling.

“Papa, I’m asking what your favorite color is.” He grinned back. He was playing with her now.

“My favorite color is whatever yours is.”

“What was your favorite color before you knew me then?” He squinted. This was apparently something he hadn’t given much thought before. He studied the fridge and the collection of photographs they’d been building since the curse broke.

“Blue,” he decided. “Like the color of the sky on a December morning. When there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and it’s sunny, but icy cold. A pale, cold kind of blue.” She smiled, imagining the exact shade with perfect clarity. She decided she liked that color best too.

“That sounds lovely, Papa.” He smiled again and returned to his task, satisfied that he’d given her a suitable answer. But she wasn’t sold on it yet. “Can I ask you something else?” she asked as she scribbled an answer on her worksheet and listened to the sound of something sizzling on the stove.

“You can ask me anything,” he promised, but that didn’t necessarily mean she’d get an answer.

“Why that color?” He stood still and silent and the only part of him moving was his hand to stir the contents of the pan. She waited for an answer, but it didn’t come. Until finally, he set the pan on a back burner and turned to face her, wiping his hands on his dark jeans.

“You want to know?” he questioned. She nodded vigorously. “Come with me.”

He reached out a hand, and she jumped out of her chair. He pulled her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the room at the end of the hall. He released her hand and pulled the key from his pocket, letting her into the room with the hats.

Jefferson didn’t like hiding things from Grace, and he hated keeping the door locked. He knew she was aware of what he did in there at night, but she never asked why he was determined to build another portal. They both had everything they could ever need in Storybrooke. She didn’t think he wanted to return to a life of foraging for mushrooms in a forest that likely didn’t exist anymore. But he made the hats anyway.

He didn’t show her a hat. He moved passed a row of them, running his fingers along the drawers under the shelves until he stopped and spun toward a cabinet. He wiggled his hands in the air and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. She watched curiously, wondering what on earth he was going to show her and how it had anything to do with his favorite color. He reached out and slid a drawer out, revealing a shimmering blue fabric. The color of an icy cold blue sky.

The cloth shimmered in his hands as he pulled it out and gripped it tight in his fingers, but then he froze. He was holding it so tight his hands were trembling and his lips were pinched. She stepped forward and put her hands over his.

“What is it, Papa?” she asked. He chewed on his lip and glared down at the cloth like it was a dark and tainted thing.

“It’s a cloak,” he told her. “She was wearing it the day we met. She wore it all the time. That’s why it’s my favorite color. But she was wearing it the day she died. The day you were born. I found it in Gold’s shop after the curse. I don’t know if he knew.”

“Can I see it?” She moved her fingers over the soft silky fabric, elated to finally have something that belonged to Alice. A physical connection to the woman she’d never known. There weren’t many things like that in Storybrooke. They were lucky to have anything from home at all. But his fingers tightened over the cloak, and he pulled it back out of her reach. “Why don’t you want me to see it?” she asked. He shook his head, keeping his lips pinched but his eyes etched with concern. He was protecting her.

“I just don’t think you should see it,” he explained. Then she knew what he was really hiding from her. The cloak was folded into a neat square. He said Alice was wearing it the day she died. The books never told her how she died. Grace always assumed she’d died giving birth. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Please? I want to see it,” she begged.

He wavered, pinching his eyes shut because he just couldn’t say no. He couldn’t protect her from the darkness forever. Not if he managed to find a way. If he could get a hat to work, someday all of that darkness would come into the light. She deserved to be prepared. The cloak was always meant to be hers. Not to be locked away in a drawer and never touched.

He just didn’t know if she was ready for what she was going to see. When the cloth tumbled from his fingers, and the hem of the cloak brushed against the floor, she took a sharp breath and a step back. He clutched the cloak in his fingers, gripping the dark brown stains into the creases of his hands. The cloak was covered in them.

“Is that—blood?” she asked. He nodded.

“I tried to get it out. I tried a thousand times.” His voice cracked as he pulled the cloth up into a bundle, no longer carefully folding it. Twisting the fabric in his hands just to be rid of the sight of it. “It won’t come out.”

His hands shook as he shoved the bundle back into the drawer and quickly shoved it away. He seemed relieved when it was gone, but his fingers still trembled. She reached out to grasp them, to assure him that she was strong enough to face it now. Even though the cloak was evidence of her mother’s death and she’d apparently died violently. She felt sick.

“It’s okay, Papa,” she whispered.

She offered him a timid smile, and he looked down at the little girl who looked so much like her mother. He wondered if she’d really believe that if she’d seen what he’d seen. But he smiled anyway, swallowing his pain and his fear of leading her into that life. He reached out to touch his thumb to her nose and hoped the blood on her mother’s cloak didn’t keep her up at night. Like it did to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little late today. Sorry. I've been really sick. D:


	8. Chapter 8

The world between worlds was nothing more than a room full of doors. Some of them weren’t always doors, though. The entrance to Wonderland, for instance, appeared as a looking-glass. Whatever land Alice came from wasn’t a door either, but a hedge. He held the cloak as he stood before it. He’d never seen the hedge before and knew it must be because he’d focused so sharply on Alice and her cloak. Something was telling him she was just beyond.

So he pushed through the vines and dropped into the dirt on the other side. His fingers buried in tangled vines and warm damp earth. He could smell it on the air. Not the same earthy scents as the forest back home. Not of moss and wild, untamed nature. But the smell of freshly trimmed grass and a meticulously watered garden.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the color of the desaturated color of the world, and then he found himself completely surrounded by plants. Crawling ivy made up the space behind him, where he could make out the outline of his portal on the bricks through the leaves. There was an even space of dirt before a row of hedges.

The sound of laughter came from somewhere beyond the hedges. There were voices and the sound of music and clinking dishes. Light twinkled through the spaces in the leaves. He stood and held the cloak as the enormous brick mansion came into view. Ivy crawled up the side in uniform patterns and lattices. The windows flickered with golden candlelight. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of roasted meat, wine, and just the slightest hint of apples.

He pushed through the hedges, slowly and cautiously, as he took in more and more of the large house. There was a vast open lawn beyond the hedges and a rose garden hidden behind tall bushes. The house had more windows and balconies than he could count. People in full gowns and expensive coats walked in and out through the tall glass doors. It reminded him of a royal ball. He could hear the tinkling of a harpsichord and people laughed and danced within. The tops of barely blooming apple trees wrapped around the wall that stretched around the property.

He was slow as he made his way to the edge of the hedge and out onto the lawn, giving someone just enough time to spot the bushes shaking and reached for the closest object that could be used as a weapon. In this case, a croquet mallet. As soon as he stood to his full height, it struck him on the shoulder. He hit the soft padded grass with a thud, landing face first on the ground. He spun back around just as Alice aimed to strike again.

She was standing above him in an ice blue gown with white silk gloves, clutching the croquet mallet tightly above her head. Her golden hair was twisted into perfectly shaped coils and ringlets. Jewels sparkled off of her neck like glittering stars. She dropped the mallet on the lawn and gasped.

“Mr. Jefferson?” she asked. Then she dropped to his side and wrapped her hands around his arms. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” he assured her. So she smacked his bruised shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was shrill and panicked. He took a moment to catch his breath. The croquet mallet had knocked the wind out of him, but she was also kneeling beside him, looking divine and lovely in the lingering twilight.

Only royals wore gowns like hers where he came from, and he’d never been invited to a royal ball before. Her bodice looked uncomfortably tight, and he wondered just how many buttons this one had. The sleeves reached her elbows in layers of ruffled lace. Her hands disappeared into long white silk gloves. The neckline plunged dangerously low so that he could see where the diamonds rested in the space between her breasts. He swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

But her expression was panicked. Her dark eyes were wide and terrified. She gripped her gloved fingers into his arm as he stood and regained his balance. She didn’t let him go as he used his free hand to wipe dirt and grass from his clothes.

“I came to find you,” he explained as if it were obvious. Then he held out the blue cloak he’d kept tucked under his elbow.

“Are you mad?” she asked, taking him in as he stood there dressed like a man who was clearly from a different land. His clothes were always dark and his hair messy from the hat he used as a portal.

“So they say.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but she didn’t return it. She put her hands on her hips and huffed. She was breathing heavily. Her heart must have been pounding in her chest. She never took the cloak.

“You have to leave this instant,” she decided. She shoved him back toward the hedges, forcing him to trip over his own clumsy feet. “You’re lucky I was the one here to see you crawl from the hedges. My mother would have you arrested, you foolish man.”

“Alice, wait,” he said as she continued to push him in bursts until the hedges were pressed against his back. “I needed to speak with you.”

She had her hands on his chest now, and her fingers gripped into the front of his vest. He thought that meeting her somewhere other than Wonderland might make the feelings less apparent. Her world didn't seem to have as much magic as Wonderland, but all the same. Her hands felt heavy on his chest. He couldn’t say that it was love. But lust most certainly.

“Speak with me?” she questioned, finally going still. The vines pressed against his spine, but she stopped trying to shove him into the hedges. She kept her hands firmly placed on his chest. “You didn’t come all this way to return a silly old cloak?”

“Of course not. I came to see you.”

“Whatever for?”

He couldn’t come up with an answer. He didn’t want to tell her the truth, that he had no other way to reach her. His intentions had been innocent enough. He only wanted to speak to her, but now he could see he had made the wrong choice. She didn’t want him there. So he only smiled.

“Mad as a hatter,” he said instead.

“Alice?” someone called from the rose garden beneath the widest balcony. Alice tensed and turned to look. “Alice, darling?” a woman called.

“You need to leave. Now,” she whispered as she pushed him back toward the hedge. “You should never have come here.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. He was always doing things without thinking them through. His mother used to say he was a reckless thinker. “Why did you throw stones at the wasp nest, son?” “I don’t know, mama. It seemed fun at the time.”

“Find me in Wonderland,” Alice said, shoving him and tangling his coat in the vines.

“I will—It’s about a business proposition.”

“We’ll speak business where we do business, Mr. Jefferson.”

The two of them struggled for just a moment too long. Jefferson’s coat had become tangled in the hedges, and Alice was relentless in trying to be rid of him. It was too late. A woman stepped out onto the grass just as the hem of his sleeve gave a loud tear.

“Alice, what exactly is going on here?” the woman asked, lifting her emerald green gown and marching across the lawn to the two young fools tangled in the hedges. Alice released him immediately and stepped back. Her shoulders and her spine went straight. She lifted her chin. She looked more like a toy soldier than the free and playful young woman he’d met in Wonderland.

The woman didn’t look much like Alice at all, but Alice’s reaction to her presence made Jefferson suspect this was her mother. Her hair was dark black with strands of silver. She was lovely but fiercely stern.

“Who are you, young man? What are you doing in the garden with my daughter?” she demanded to know. She spoke with a sense of power that Alice’s voice lacked. But Jefferson had traveled to many lands and knew how to blend in. Or at least how to pretend to until he learned their ways.

“My name is Mr. Jefferson, madam. I was simply hoping your daughter would join me in a game of croquet,” he replied with a bow.

The woman stopped short and glanced at Alice. But Alice was busy staring at the grass, her hands folded neatly at her front. The woman didn’t believe a word. She looked at the man with his strange clothes, and the cloak she knew had gone missing from Alice’s wardrobe. Then she looked back at Alice, who had her hands on the man’s chest only moments before.

But the woman masked her doubt and concern with the pleasant smile of a hostess. Jefferson got the feeling he was about to be torn apart by wolves.

“Of course, Mr. Jefferson,” she said. “I think it’s rather late in the evening for a game of croquet, don’t you think? Especially with an unmarried woman who lacks an escort. I do believe you’ll find better company inside. Won’t you come in and join us? My dear Alice has plenty of space left on her dance card. Perhaps she would like for you to fill in your name.” Alice shot her mother a pleading glance, but if the woman saw it, she didn’t let on. Jefferson opened his mouth to reply, but she was determined to call him out. Publically. She set her daughter’s hand in the crook of her elbow. “Come along, Mr. Jefferson,” she said. “I’ll introduce you to my husband.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, stretching out a long leg to hurry after them. The woman bent her neck and turned toward her daughter as she led them back toward the rose garden.

“You’re lucky I was the one who found you, Alice,” she whispered in a low and cold voice. Jefferson heard, but said nothing. They seemed to be complete opposites. And not just in looks. Alice was warm, and her mother was cold. “Your reputation is already hanging by a thread. Don’t make another stupid mistake.”

“Yes, Mother,” Alice replied obediently.

Jefferson was starting to understand Alice and all her strangeness. She told him she didn’t steal for food, but she had reasons. It was clear that her goal was freedom. He followed the two women into the rose garden and wondered what he could do to help her achieve that.

The party inside was extravagant. The women led Jefferson into a large ballroom with high ceilings and twinkling chandeliers. Tables were lined with more food than he’d ever seen in one place. People in gowns and expensive suits wandered around or danced. The music was soft, loud enough to be heard by dancers, but not so loud it would drown out conversation. Groups of young women flitted by in clumps, hiding behind their fans and sending coy inviting smiles at every available young bachelor. Men scurried along after them, desperate to get their names on dance cards before they were full.

It was challenging to keep up with the women. At any moment he could reach out and slip something into his pocket. An abandoned silver fork here, a loose bracelet there. He could quickly get his hands on something shiny enough to feed him like a king for weeks. But he kept his hands clenched behind his back. He didn’t want to ruin Alice’s reputation any more than he already had.

Alice stood beside her mother with her spine straight and her breathing tense. She looked uncomfortable, and Jefferson was sure it was his fault. She didn’t speak as she followed her mother dutifully and the older woman smiled and waved at passersby. She led them both to a group of influential looking gentleman congregated near a punch table.

“Darling,” the woman said as she reached her husband’s side and turned to face Jefferson. She pulled Alice along like an extra limb that obeyed at the slightest urging. The girl kept her eyes on the polished floor. “Darling, this is Mr. Jefferson.” He couldn’t help but notice the way she’d emphasized his lack of title. The man in question looked the boy over, and Jefferson searched his face for a hint of Alice. Perhaps in the nose or the eyes, but he wasn’t so sure. The man’s hair was graying but had never been gold. His eyes were light like water. He extended a plump hand.

“Mr. Jefferson, eh? Wouldn’t happen to be any relation of the Duke, by any chance?”

“Actually, he’s my cousin,” Jefferson replied. Alice shot him a panicked look, and he only smiled back. The woman watched them closely, checking for a sign that they were more familiar with each other than Alice let on. “I’m afraid I didn’t receive a title,” Jefferson said, turning back to Alice’s father. “But I did receive a fair bit of money.”

The man studied him for a long moment before breaking out into a wide grin. He enveloped Jefferson’s hand in both of his.

“My boy. With wit like that, I’ve no doubt you’re cousin of the Duke. But I must ask, why are you dressed so odd? Is this the style among the youngsters these days?” Jefferson looked down at his clothes, the odd patterns and fabrics, the torn sleeve, and knew he must stand out amongst all the glamour.

“It’s a pastime of mine,” he said with another laugh. “That, and my tailor is a bit eccentric. Been in the family for years and I haven’t the heart to put him out of work.” The man appeared to love him instantly. He reached out to slap the boy on the back.

“Well, if you’re going to attend a Liddell party, you must dress like a Liddell. Helen, my darling, are there any of John’s old clothes left upstairs in his room?” The woman gave a tight smile.

“Of course. I never did clear his room of his things. But they are a bit behind on current fashions, I’m afraid,” she said.

“No matter. Fine boy he was, my son. You look about his height. Bit broader in the shoulders, but it would be quicker than calling for a cab at this hour. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir. I would be honored.” The man wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him away from the group.

“Of course you would. You may have known John in your youth. Or perhaps an older brother. You look to be about his age when he passed. Though that was some years ago now.”

The Baron led the young man out of the ballroom, but Jefferson risked another glance at Alice. She looked as beautiful and regal as a fairy, but terrified. And when his eyes drifted to her mother, who was staring back at him with eyes like a hungry hawk, he understood why.


	9. Chapter 9

Storybrooke used to be a quiet place. Everyone went about the same business each and every day. If Jefferson left his house at a specific time, he’d inevitably run into the same people completing the same errands. Day after day. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

He thought things would change once the savior set foot in town and made time move again. Most of all, he thought he’d welcome the change. But he’d gone twenty-eight years expecting things to go exactly the same as they had the day before. And it took getting used to. People weren’t as predictable anymore. They were free to make their own choices. It was harder to ensure Grace was safe.

Now Storybrooke was noisy and chaotic. The town was still dealing with the results of the curse. With their memories back, they tirelessly searched for the people they’d loved and lost. Jefferson preferred the quiet sanctuary of his house above town, even when Grace was at school.

But he was growing restless. His mind was flooded with thoughts and ideas now that he was free to think them. He had his daughter back. She remembered him again. And he’d finally given her all the luxury he ever wanted his family to have. There was just one person missing. And she haunted his dreams every night.

So when Grace disappeared on the bus the next morning, he reluctantly drove into town to the one place he never wanted to return to.

When he first woke up in Storybrooke all those years ago, he’d quickly figured out he was the only person who knew who he really was. With the exception of Regina, who liked to throw it in his face as often as possible. But Jefferson learned to avoid her as long as he could and went to Mr. Gold in the hopes that some shred of his former accomplice was still lingering in the man’s mind.

That was where he found it. Sitting in a glass case, displayed like an oddity to be sold and bartered for. A gold lipped teacup sitting on a cushion of folded fabric in a familiar shade of embroidered blue satin.

He yelled at Mr. Gold, ranting and raving and earning him the whispers of madness that followed wherever he went. It did not take him long to realize Mr. Gold was telling the truth, though he’d always been a very convincing liar. He suspected that Gold knew precisely who he was from time to time, but he’d never gotten any proof. Gold lived his life in the same boringly repetitive patterns as the rest of town. So Jefferson used his newfound wealth to buy the items that were rightfully his. It was a small price to pay for things that had once meant so much to him.

Now he didn’t think he’d be able to pay the price. Mr. Gold was no longer a dangerous landowner who ran a pawn shop and made his deals based on monetary value. He was the Dark One. And the Dark One wouldn’t be swayed by cash.

Mr. Gold didn’t look the least bit surprised when the bell above the door chimed as Jefferson let himself into the shop. He looked up from a logbook, gave the man a once over, and returned to his task.

“What is it you want to accuse me of this time?” he asked casually. Jefferson glanced at the display cases, wondering what belonged to who and if they’d ever be able to get it back. He hoped he’d never skipped over something small and important. There were a significant number of Alice’s things that hadn’t ended up in Storybrooke.

“I didn’t come here to make a purchase,” Jefferson explained.

“Your skills no longer have any value to me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He stopped before the last display, where the man flipped through his book and finally turned his eyes on Jefferson.

“I don’t think you’re willing to pay the price for what you want,” he said.

“How do you know what I want?” The imp smiled.

“You only make deals for one thing,” he said. “Your pretty little rose. With all her thorns.” Jefferson took a deep breath.

“Name your price, and I’ll decide if I can pay it.”

“You don’t have what I want. Not anymore.”

“I just—need answers. Anything.”

“I knew you would ask eventually. But even if you had something I wanted, I can’t help you find what you’re looking for.”

“But you’re the Dark One. You can find anything.”

“In this land? Perhaps. In the Enchanted Forest? Most certainly. But Wonderland? If I could get whatever I wanted from Wonderland—I wouldn’t have required your services.”

“Then how do I get to Wonderland? There has to be another way.” The Dark One looked back down at his logbook, now bored with the conversation.

“I can’t help you,” he said.

Jefferson knew it was useless to hope. He’d only ever come to the Dark One when he’d exhausted all other options. And even when he thought he could pay the price, it turned out to be too high in the end. A deal with the Dark One had cost him his wife. He wasn’t willing to lose Grace to the same fate. He was foolish to come.

“Right,” he said, chewing on his lip and looking over the display cases for anything familiar. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

He turned on his heel and marched toward the door. He felt like an idiot for even thinking of asking Gold for help. He wasn’t that desperate now. It was only a small flicker of hope now, and there had to be another way to bring it to life. A way that wouldn’t put Grace at risk.

“I didn’t say there wasn’t a way to get what you want,” Mr. Gold said before Jefferson reached the door. He paused and glanced back at the man who still seemed casually bored in his quiet little pawn shop. “Just that you might be looking in the wrong place.”

“And where exactly should I look?” The imp smiled that dangerous grin.

“That, I’m afraid, will cost you.”

“What do you want?”

“That depends on what you want more. The ingredients or the instructions. One or the other.”

Jefferson gave him a respectful nod and strolled out of the store. He knew it was best to leave it at that. He was lucky to get that much without having to offer something in return. It was likely due to the mutual respect they’d built for each other in their earlier dealings. Jefferson wouldn’t push for anything more. Not when he had so much to lose.

Besides, the imp had told him everything he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness today. It's the first day of the first vacation (from school) I've had in a year. So I spent the day playing video games with my kid.


	10. Chapter 10

A splash of icy blue caught Jefferson’s eyes when he returned to the ballroom with the Baron. A title he had only learned through the whispers of the servants who corrected him when he said “sir” instead of “my lord.” The man had offered the clothes in kindness and they’d spoken about the Duke and what it was like to grow up on some far away estate. Jefferson lied through his teeth, and he had a suspicion that the old Baron was aware of the lies. But the man continued to supply him with answers whenever he hesitated between sentences.

They had thankfully parted when they reached the ballroom. The Baron had business to attend to, and no matter how much he wanted to have “Mr. Jefferson, cousin of the Duke” play cards with him, it was a private business. So the young man found his way back and saw where Alice stood at the other end of the long room.

He caught glimpses of her through the dancers as he weaved his way to her. They moved back and forth to the music, but Alice found a place along the way and stayed in a shaded corner by a table piled high with sweets. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap. She looked lonely.

Her position didn’t strike him as odd until he was halfway across the ballroom. There were young women everywhere. They smiled and batted their eyelashes at him as he passed. They huddled together in groups, whispering about titles and wealth. Each group of them was inevitably followed by a man trying to write his name on a dance card or catch the attention of a particular interest. He passed a whole cluster of young gentlemen talking and laughing about which women would make the best wives, and which would make the best lovers. There wasn’t a single person with Alice’s name on their lips.

Alice was lovely. Beautiful in any realm. She had a face that was delicately proportioned and eyes that hinted at an underlying mischievousness. Men should have been shoving each other just to be near her. Just to flirt and smile and hold her hand. But they acted as if she wasn’t even there. Her expression was serene as she watched the dancers until her eyes found Jefferson’s in the crowd.

“Mis Liddell,” he said once he reached her side.

“Mr. Jefferson,” she replied with a smile, mocking him and his insistence on being ‘Just Jefferson.’ “My brother’s clothes suit you well.” He smoothed out the front of his vest. It was a bit tight in the shoulders, and the length of the arm was off, but it helped him blend in a little better.

“I feel guilty for being here. Even more for accepting it. I think your mother may want my head for it.” Her grin widened, and for a moment she didn’t look so lonely anymore.

“Oh, she most certainly does. And she knows you’re a liar as well. You should leave before she gets her hands on you. She’ll make a mockery of you in front of the entire nobility. Only after she convinces you that I’m vile.”

“I’m sure I can handle it. I have no reputation to uphold here, and I wouldn’t believe a single ill thing spoken against you.” She snorted in what was a very unladylike laugh. She had to disguise her face behind her white glove to let it out. Her cheeks pinked and he smiled at the sight of it. Even though Wonderland wasn’t making his head rush with the scent of apple blossoms, he still couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. “Your mother did say something about a dance card though. Would you allow me to fill out my name?” Her expression relaxed.

“There’s no need to fill out your name. You’re the only person who’s asked.” He stretched out his hand, and she set hers softly into his.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“If you stay here much longer, I’m sure you’ll find it very easy to believe.” The song ended as he led her out onto the dancefloor. “Are you certain this is a good idea?” she whispered as she set a hand on his shoulder and he placed his on her waist. “Do you even know how to dance in this land?”

“I’ve visited plenty of lands. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

“I hope you’re right. For your sake.” The music began, and Jefferson led her into the dance. Her eyes lit up when she realized he knew what he was doing. The corner of her lips lifted into a half smile. She was impressed.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” she questioned. He smiled smugly.

“I’ve been to a lot of different places, Miss Liddell. I’ve learned to blend into all of them.” Her smile fell.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she told him once they began to spin away from other dancers and out of earshot.

“I know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to crash your party. I just wanted to set up a time to meet you in Wonderland. In all the years we’ve worked in Wonderland, we’ve never crossed paths until now. I didn’t want to rely on chance again.”

“What could possibly be so important that you had to find me quickly?”

“How about we save that conversation for Wonderland? Where we can’t be overheard. I just needed to set up a time.”

“Well all right.”

“When can you meet me?”

“I was planning on going through again tomorrow night. Provided that the chance presents itself. Tonight would be inconvenient. My mother’s party will keep me here late, and then I’ll be too tired.”

“Tomorrow then. There’s really no telling time in Wonderland, is there?” She laughed.

“No, I suppose there isn’t. At least not one I’ve figured out.”

“You know where the road branches off and heads toward the entrance to the Queen’s maze? By those rude pansies? That cluster of mushrooms that are bigger than horses?” She smiled.

“I know the place.”

“I’ll meet you there. Whenever our times happen to overlap.”

“That works for me. In the meantime, you should be cautious. After we finish this dance, you should find your belongings and go. My mother already suspects that you and I—and there are plenty of people between you and that portal. If she gets her hands on you—I’m not certain she’ll let you go. At least not without drawing blood.”

“I’ll survive. But I’ll go. I promise.”

Her expression had gone serious. The candlelight flickered through crystals and lit up her face in a warm yellow glow. The color in her realm wasn’t as vibrant as Wonderland or even the Enchanted Forest, but she was still the most beautiful woman in the room. She may have been the most beautiful woman Jefferson had ever laid eyes on. He didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but he wanted to help her. He could see a pink mark on her chin and the way she’d gone so still and tense when her mother appeared.

“If you want me to go now,” he continued, “I will.” She shook her head once, quickly, so that he almost didn’t see it. She didn’t want him to go, but she never said it.

“Can I ask you something, Just Alice?” he asked as they danced along and she turned her attention to the people in the room, searching the crowd for her mother’s scowling stare. He couldn’t see anyone else.

“What would you like to know?” she answered. She turned her dark eyes back to him.

“I told you why I do what I do. Now I want to know why you do it.” She pinched her lips.

It was obvious now why she took to a life of stealing and trading in Wonderland, but he wanted to hear her confirm it. If only to settle the madness that was telling him to sweep her away from this beautiful estate and all the food and jewels she could ever want.

“Have you ever wanted to change your destiny?” she asked him.

“All the time,” he replied, without a hitch.

“I was born with certain expectations. I had my whole future planned out for me before I ever got to decide who I was or who I wanted to be. I’ve never been in want of food or clothing. But I do have dreams of my own. And I’ve never met anyone who wanted to know them. I’ll have to find a husband, be an obedient and quiet wife, and bare him heirs. If I’m lucky, I might even be allowed to run his household. But I’ll die unknown. I’ll be a baron’s daughter and my husband’s wife until I die and nothing more.

“Perhaps I’ll be lucky and my husband may find me tolerable. Maybe he’ll even want to know me. My memory might live on for another generation or two if I happen to produce children who find me worthy of remembering. But that’s all. My life doesn’t belong to me.”

“This house,” he stated, “is a pretty cage for a bird to be trapped in.”

“What good is a pretty cage if the bird can’t fly and the other birds have sharp beaks and claws?”

“So you steal so to avoid marriage and a family?” She laughed, though it didn’t sound very amused.

“Certainly not. I do it for the freedom of my own choice. I do it because I can. That’s my only rebellion, don’t you see? Wonderland is all I have that is mine. It’s all I’ll ever have.”

“Why not go through your portal and never come back?”

“Believe me, I would if I could. But I’m not like you. Wonderland is the only land I can access. And what kind of life would I live in a place where the Queen wants my head because I painted her white roses red? Not quite the life I’d hoped for, I’m afraid.”

“So what are you looking for then?” She almost answered, but seemed to bite her tongue. She stepped back and out of his grasp as the song ended. Then she gave him a low curtsy and told him as much of the truth as she was willing.

“I only want a place to fly,” she said. “I don’t want to live my life in a cage. I want a forest. With trees to land on and open skies. A nest I build for myself. A flock I choose for myself. Chosen for love. Not a cage. No matter how pretty.” He returned the bow like the other dancers but didn’t want her to slip away. Though he knew one more dance wouldn’t be appropriate.

“You should go,” she repeated. “Now. Not all cages in this land are pretty. They will lock you up.”

He would have heeded her warning. He watched her slip away through the crowd and disappear amongst all the gowns. He was going to find his clothes and return to his portal, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him from leaving. Helen stood behind him, with her green eyes shining and a wicked grin.

“Mr. Jefferson,” she said in a falsely welcoming tone. “You’re a marvelous dancer. I would be delighted if you’d share the next dance with me.”

“Lady Liddell,” he said, lifting her hand to lead her into the next dance. “I would be honored.” She smiled and placed her other hand on his shoulder, but he was tense and nervously searched the crowd for Alice. Helen pulled him into the dance a bit roughly, forcing him to focus on her.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” she remarked. He looked back down at her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter. Alice. Beautiful.”

“Yes, indeed. She is.”

“Such a shame. A wasted beauty.” His eyes creased in confusion. “Her sister was envious of her when they were children. She didn’t get the beauty, but she at least has her sanity. It was much easier to find her a husband.”

“What do you mean?” She feigned surprise.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Alice—the poor girl. Went quite mad some years ago. We’d hoped to have her married by now, but no one will take the risk of having a mad wife. Or possibly passing that onto their heirs. The poor girl can’t even make a friend, let alone find a man willing to wed her.”

“Mad?”

“You know I'm not surprised she hasn’t told you. We had to have the poor dear committed to an asylum. It was a dreadful time for the family, you can imagine. I know it must sound absurd to you. My other children turned out just fine, and I’m blessed to have them. But Alice. The poor girl has never been all there in her head, you understand. She visioned up a magical place where rabbits could talk. Fell into a rabbit hole is what she said. Saw monsters and creatures. A cat that could smile. A rabbit that carried a pocket watch.” She sighed dramatically.

“We tried to hold the rumors at bay, but you know how servants like to gossip. You would have heard of it sooner or later. I’d rather you heard it from me. Alice never did recover from it. She even had a name for the place. Underland? Something of that sort.”

“Wonderland,” he corrected. Her eyes lit up with genuine surprise.

“So she has told you.”

“No. She hasn’t told me anything.” He leaned in close, his blue eyes alight with mischief. “She got there through a rabbit hole, and I got there through a hat. Did she tell you about the hare who drinks too much tea? Did you know the rabbit’s watch goes backward? What about the Red Queen? Did she tell you about how the Queen tried to take her head for painting all her white roses red? The Jabberwock? Oh, I bet she didn’t tell you about the Jabberwock.”

The woman stumbled over her feet and stopped in the middle of the dance floor. He leaned in closer to Helen’s face. Dangerously close. Jefferson’s reputation meant nothing to him in this land, but Helen’s meant everything to her. And the close proximity to him would have the party gossiping for weeks.

“You know what they call me there? In Wonderland? They call me the Hatter,” he told her. Then he smiled. “And you know what they say about hatters.”

He laughed as he walked away. A boyish giggle, where his eyes had gone wide. Helen said nothing as he disappeared into the crowd, but he could see by the look on her face, that she thought him just as mad as Alice.


	11. Chapter 11

Grace hummed to herself as she got ready for bed. Jefferson could hear her from down the hall. He left the door of his hat room cracked so he could tuck her in when she was ready. The sound of her song drifted through the hall to where he sat amidst the hats.

Alice would have been proud of her. Alice would have adored her. He usually tried not to think of what life would have been like if they hadn’t taken that final and fateful trip into Wonderland. But now it seemed as if Alice was pushing her way into every part of his life again. Just like she did all those years ago when a fellow portal jumper stole a teacup and his heart all at once.

They would have hurt for money, admittedly, but Alice never cared for it as much as he did. Jefferson was the one who wanted to spoil her with jewels and gold and beautiful things. Alice was happy without it. She would have helped them forage for mushrooms. She would have been an excellent mother to Grace and taught her how to be a proper lady for when the time called for it. And how to misbehave just for the joy of it. She would have told her stories and sang her to sleep. She wouldn’t have let him go back to Wonderland to help Regina. That was the way it was supposed to be. It was his mistake, not Alice’s choice, that led to her end.

If Alice lived perhaps the two of them would have been there alone, watching Grace from afar. If Regina hadn’t tricked him into losing his head in Wonderland, maybe the three of them would have ended up in Storybrooke together. They could have been happy. Even under a curse where they didn’t know who they were. As long as they were together.

He just knew he’d be listening to Alice hum along with Grace down the hall. He could imagine the exact song she’d choose too. And he pictured her lifting Grace’s hands to lead her into a dance in the middle of the bedroom. They would be laughing, but he couldn’t remember her laugh anymore. He’d tried so hard to forget.

All he heard now was Grace, and the house felt silent and empty. It was a big house for one man and his daughter. It was a house for a family. He and Alice and Grace and any other children they could have had if Wonderland hadn’t taken her away. It was precisely the kind of house he’d planned for them. Somewhere Alice and Grace could be free, but still with all the comforts and luxuries they deserved. With a family that loved them.

When Grace finally went to bed, after he tucked her in and told her a story about a little hare with a crooked ear who drank too much tea, he returned to his room with the hats. He located the drawer he’d hastily shoved the cloak into and pulled it back out. Even through the years, the faded bloodstains were garish and left a permanent mark on the once beautiful fabric. He wasn’t sure how it ended up in Gold’s shop as a cushion for the teacup that linked their fates. Perhaps Regina meant for him to find it. So it could serve as a reminder of everything he’d lost. It was the cloak he carried his daughter home in, covered in her mother’s blood.

Once, when he was younger, and Grace was still in her cradle, he wanted to make something out of it for her. It held many painful memories, but it was a fine fabric and Grace’s only link to her mother. He wanted her to feel safe and warm in it the way Alice had.

But the stains wouldn’t come out. He scrubbed for days as hard as he could until the embroidery frayed and the blue began to fade. His fingers were raw and red, but the dark color of her blood lingered in the fabric. He couldn’t make anything for Grace with it. Not a warm blanket, a doll, or a dress. It was forever marked by the death of her mother.

He thought back to that first thing he used the cloak to find Alice through his portal. How it opened a door that led him right to her. Mr. Gold said he had everything he needed to get what he wanted, except for the information to help him achieve it. Perhaps it was still useful in this land after all. Magical items had moved over with the curse a lot more than sentimental items. And there was magic in Storybrooke now. The cloak had taken him to Alice once before. Maybe it still could.

He carried the heavy fabric to the long table at the center of the room and reached for a pair of sharp silver scissors. Then he cut into the material the pattern he now knew by heart. He was going to make a hat. And maybe this one would finally take him where he wanted to go.


	12. Chapter 12

Jefferson could make out the sound of Alice’s song through the tall blades of grass. The sun was shining in Wonderland, bright and warm and pungent with the scent of blooming apple trees. The smell used to remind him of summers in the Enchanted Forest, but now it smelled like fresh cut grass, watered hedges, and an apple orchard. It reminded him of Alice.

It was the sound of her humming he caught on the breeze. He recognized the song as something he’d heard before. His heart skipped a beat when he considered the possibility of it being the song they’d danced to, but he couldn’t recall it exactly.

The most massive mushroom in the patch was tall and wide enough to be used as a cushion if one weren’t afraid of rolling off. It was thick, red, and fat and Alice was stretched over the top of it. Kicking her feet back and forth over the edge of the cap. She was holding a book over her head, and her hair hung loose and free over the other side. He wasn’t even sure if she realized she was humming while she read.

He thought it was strange that she was dressed like a child again. Her realm might have different customs for unmarried women, but he had the distinct feeling it was a form of punishment. Her mother’s penalty to Alice for going mad instead of focusing on preparing for a husband.

Alice had pulled the black ribbons from her hair and tied them around her wrist. The pungent breezes caught on the strands of gold and twisted them in the air, fluttering the pages of her book as she hummed the tune.

He jumped onto a smaller mushroom and saw her jolt violently. The humming halted, and she let out a startled yelp.

“Mr. Jefferson!” she stated as he crossed his arms over the mushroom cap.

“Just Jefferson,” he reminded her. She set the book down and sat up to lean on her elbows. “Apologies, Miss Liddell.”

She rolled her eyes in a very unladylike way. She seemed so much freer in Wonderland. She looked happy. With her legs on a mushroom cap and the sun freckling her skin. Jefferson would have taken from the Red Queen herself if it meant he could keep her that way.

“Please don’t call me that?” she begged. “Just Alice.”

“Just Alice. Just Jefferson.”

“I understand. You win.” She rolled onto her stomach and slid off of the mushroom, bouncing onto the smaller one beside him before hopping back onto the ground. He followed her. “You had a business proposition for me?” she asked as she smoothed out her periwinkle dress with a high lace collar and an obnoxious amount of buttons.

“Right,” he said, standing tall. “You’re in want of freedom and I—well—want to survive. Correct?”

“I suppose so,” she agreed with an incredulous stare.

“I figured we might be able to assist one another. Two thieves are better than one. Especially if our employers are seeking the same objects. We can help each other. Split the profits. Take on more work. How does that sound?” She studied him, looking him up and down and taking in his unusual clothes, his long coat, tight vest, and brown hair that was always messy.

“And what makes me believe I can trust you?” she questioned. He laughed. It was a carefree laugh. Nothing more than genuine, unfiltered joy.

“What have you got to lose? The worst thing that can happen to you is that I skip out on a deal and you miss out on some gold. It’s not like you’re hurting for gold anyway.” She crossed her arms, her book hanging limply from her hand.

“I’m not hurting for things, certainly, but gold is another matter entirely. The gold I earn goes toward my own freedom. I can’t be my own person if I don’t have my own wealth.”

“So that’s what your plan is? To save up enough gold to escape your life of privilege and parties?” She ground her teeth in irritation.

“I plan to save up enough gold to not have to rely on a husband to care for me. Or to own me. I can’t own my own land. But at least I can have my own fortune. Maybe I’ll travel. I’ll need nothing but my looking-glass.”

“Or you could—come to my world.” She stiffened.

“Your world?” He nodded and chewed on his thumbnail to hide his nervousness. “What’s in your world?”

“Magic,” he said with a grin and wide eyes. “Ogres too, unfortunately. But—we do have a lot of trees to land on, skies to fly in. Lots of places to build nests, lots of flocks to choose from. Princesses. Fairies. Dwarves. Dragons.”

“It doesn’t sound very different from Wonderland,” she said with a laugh.

“Ah. Well, there are more people. People like us I mean. No one talks funny. Animals don’t talk either. Most of the time. Clocks don’t go backward. As far as I know.”

“Are you happy there?” He didn’t expect that question. It was home. It didn’t matter if he was happy there. He shrugged.

“I’ve visited a lot of realms, and it’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to live in. Wonderland is my favorite to visit. But I could never live cut off from people and—sanity. Couldn’t imagine making a home in any of the other places I’ve been. Some worlds have hardly any magic at all. Yours for instance.” She shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she decided. “I’ve only ever been to Wonderland. I wouldn’t be able to get to your land.”

“What about the world between lands?” She looked confused.

“There’s a world between lands?”

“With all the doors?” She shook her head.

“I’ve never seen anything like that. How does your portal work anyway?”

“It’s a hat. Unfortunately, though, I’d never be able to bring you with me. One person in; one person out. Two people in; two people out. I’d have to trade you for someone else. Hat’s rules. Not mine.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“How did you come by your portal anyway?” He took a deep breath and let it go slowly. He didn’t like talking about the family that turned their backs on him. They meant nothing to him now. But this wasn’t pillow talk with a strange woman he had no intention of ever seeing again. This was Alice, and he intended to see her as often as he could for as long as he could.

“My father was a hatter,” he admitted. “He apprenticed me when I was young. I was meant to continue the business. One day I made a hat—and it turned into a portal. Been doing it ever since. What about yours? How does it work?”

“It’s a looking-glass. I fell through a rabbit hole when I was a child, and it brought me here. A few years later, when I was confined to my room, I was thinking about Wonderland. I really believed I’d just gone mad, you know? And I wanted some proof that it had been real. I fell through the looking-glass and found my answer. Though, I’ve never tried bringing someone through with me. So I don’t know if it has a limit to it, like yours. I just know that it’s only ever taken me here.”

“Every portal jumper inevitably finds a portal. Or makes one. Accidentally.”

“Are there many where you come from?”

“Just me that I know of. I have met others, though. I don’t think there’s more than one in every land. I don’t know why they all work differently.”

“I’ve only ever met you and one other.”

“The White Rabbit?”

“Yes. His portal doesn’t work like ours. It moves through my land and Wonderland. Like my looking-glass. But I was able to fall through the hole he’d made. It’s peculiar. He was very upset about it.”

“He’s madder than I am.” She laughed and shook her head. She avoided looking directly at him.

“Everyone in Wonderland is madder than you. This is probably the sanest conversation I’ve ever had in this place.” She caught him staring and blushed.

“We call it the Enchanted Forest,” he told her quietly.

“It sounds lovely,” she replied.

“You’d never be obligated to attend a party there. If you didn’t want to. You could be whoever you wanted. You could be free.” She gazed off at the tall grass surrounding them like a privacy fence. She had a far off, dreamy look in her eyes before it disappeared and she turned back to him, seemingly startled by a realization.

“Why do you want me to go to the Enchanted Forest?”

“I don’t. It was just a suggestion. A goal for you to reach. Seemed a lot better than ‘Save up my money so I can buy my own things when my husband owns me.’” She sighed heavily and rested her head against the cap of the giant mushroom.

Wonderland was making his heart flutter. He thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of her under twinkling chandeliers in her family ballroom. But it was only there, in Wonderland, when the colors were so vibrant. He could see the gold strands in her hair, the pink of her lips, and the purple bruise on her chin.

He reached out and touched it. Her eyes popped open in surprise. He ran his thumb over the bruise and then looked into her deep dark eyes.

“Your mother?” he asked.

“How could you tell?” she questioned. She didn’t pull away or ask him to move. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought she might have actually leaned in closer. He could see the faded freckles on the bridge of her nose now. He hadn’t noticed them before.

“She seems like a bird with a sharp beak and even sharper claws.” She smiled, and he wasn’t mistaken this time, she was leaning closer. Drawn in by the same spell Wonderland seemed to have placed on him.

“Sharper beak, I’m afraid. She did have a lot to say about you after the party. Tried to convince my father you were a spy.” He laughed, and it lit up his whole face.

“Who’s to say I’m not?” he asked, leaning in just a little closer.

He still had her chin gently pinched between his fingers. His other arm moved to lean against the mushroom, close enough so that he could twist his fingers in her hair without having to reach. She didn’t seem to mind that he was touching her. If she noticed at all. He suspected she was as hyper-aware of him as he was of her.

“Are you here just to spy on the mad daughter of the Baron, Just Jefferson?” He smiled.

“It’s Wonderland, Alice. We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t all mad.”

He looked into her eyes and seemed to forget all at once that he’d vowed to prevent himself from getting attached to others. He told himself his career was more important than love or friendship. But Wonderland was pulling him in. He wanted to lose himself to her completely. To lean in closer until there was no more space between them. Better yet, to lie her down beneath the umbrella of the mushroom cap and pull apart each and every button until all of her was exposed to him. He would claim it was just Wonderland playing with his mind, but it wasn’t. Even then, he could feel something swirling around in his heart that could only be love.

He had, completely and utterly, met his match. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid.

So, of course, the jittery hare with his crooked ear and jerky movements chose that moment to burst through the tall grass and scare the both of them so fiercely that Jefferson jumped and Alice let out a startled yelp.

“Mr. Jefferson,” the brown hare said as he shivered, trembling the blades of grass and making the canopy above them shake. “Miss Alice.” Alice cleared her throat with her hand over her heart, and Jefferson was almost sure that she’d been as dazed as he was.

“Yes, Mr. Hare?” she asked.

“Forgive me—f-for interrupting. But I was wondering, Mr. Jefferson, if you’d managed to find my tea. M-Miss Alice said that you had it.” Alice shot Jefferson a knowing look with her sneaky, wicked smile. Jefferson pushed his irritation down and resisted the urge to kick the hare into the grass and pull Alice into his arms to kiss the freckles on her nose.

“You did promise,” she reminded him. He groaned and reached into his pocket to procure the small bag of tea leaves he’d brought from the Enchanted Forest to trade for the cup. He tossed it to the hare, who vibrated with excitement.

“Oh, wonderful!” he said. “Do come to tea. Both of you. Please join me?”

“I’d really rather not,” Jefferson tried, but Alice lifted his arm and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Why not, Just Jefferson?” she asked him. “Tea would be lovely, Mr. Hare.”

“Splendid!” the hare decided as he hopped back into the grass. Jefferson looked down at Alice, who was smiling wildly. And if tea with the hare were all it took to make her smile that way, he would suffer through it. He smiled back, getting pulled back into the darkness of her eyes.

“Just Alice? I will agree to tea with the hare in exchange for one thing,” he said. Her eyes narrowed with skepticism, but she kept the smile on her lips.

“And what’s that, Just Jefferson?”

“Tell me your favorite color?”

“My favorite color? Why do you want to know that?” Because he wanted to know everything about her and it seemed like the best place to start.

“It’s a valid question.” She took a moment to consider it.

“Blue,” she decided. “A pale, icy kind of blue. Like the color of the sky on a cold winter morning.” She gave a nod, satisfied with her answer.

“Like the color of your cloak?” he noted. She shook her head once.

“No,” she admitted. “Like the color of your eyes.”


	13. Chapter 13

Piece by piece, the hat began to form. By morning, Jefferson had something closely resembling a hat. Though most of the fabric had been unsalvageable. And certain parts of it were still stained with her blood and the embroidery frayed. It wasn’t the prettiest hat he’d ever made, but it was the most like Alice of them all. It was created from her cloak and even stained with her blood.

There were a few embellishments he wanted to add before calling it complete. Specific pieces he just couldn’t let a hat go without. Not since that first one opened a portal and set him on his fate. He’d tried making the same hat, and he’d tried making different ones, but they always failed. This hat served only one purpose. Not to get him home or give him access to all the worlds with magic. Just to get him to Alice.

The sun began to rise as he was cutting through the final shreds of the cloak. His hair was messy from all the times he’d run his fingers through it. His eyes were red with exhaustion and the tears he’d fought back when the blood became too much to bear. He immediately abandoned the icy blue hat on the table and hurried to his bedroom to make himself more presentable.

This world had a few more perks than the Enchanted Forest. He had ways to make his eyes less red and quickly found a clean scarf to look less disheveled. He took a moment to fix his messy hair before leaving. He wanted to look like he’d at least gone to sleep the night before.

Once he was changed, he rushed down the hall to the stairs so he could get breakfast started before Grace woke up. She discovered him minutes later as he hurried to make pancakes on the stove.

“Good morning, Papa,” she said when she reached the kitchen, still in her pajamas and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She took a seat at the table as he set a plate down in front of her and kissed the top of her head.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replied, hurrying off to get her some orange juice.

She must not have slept well either. She didn’t question him all morning and seemed sleepy at breakfast. He wondered if he was loud while making the hat, or if she’d just been plagued by the bloodstains on her mother’s cloak like he feared. He knew he shouldn’t have shown it to her, but she was getting older, and the questions would keep coming. Maybe she’d stop now that she saw how the story ended.

When her bus disappeared down the road, he returned to the kitchen to clean up and make himself a cup of tea. He carried the whole pot up the stairs so he could drink it while he worked. He sat the tray on the table and went back to work to finish the hat’s final embellishments.

The tea had gone cold by the time he was done. He reached for his cup, grimaced when he realized it was cold, and then decided he didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to go all the way back down the stairs to wait for another kettle to boil. He spun the hat and watched as it flopped onto the table. He wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed.

He was angry, not disappointed. Rage flooded him, and he sent the teacup splattering against a shelf. It hit the wall and shattered, sending cold tea and broken ceramic all over several hats. He leaned against the table and sighed. It was only a glimmer of hope in his chest. Just a small, stupid thought. If the cloak wasn’t already a tether to her, then her blood most certainly was. There was magic in Storybrooke again, but maybe there was no magic left in him.

Something was still missing. There was more to it than just a portal jumper with a hat. Each jumper had their own unique traits and rules. Alice had a looking-glass that only opened to one land. The first portal she’d fallen through belonged to the White Rabbit, with his own set of rules. Anyone could go either way. No set amount of bodies. But they’d have to crawl through a small hole and could only go from Wonderland to Alice’s world. As far as he knew. The Rabbit was always careful about who he let through his portals. He’d been angry at Alice for falling through by accident.

The looking-glass was gone. He never knew exactly what became of it. His hat had been destroyed beyond repair. Nothing but ash was left now. And he never asked what happened to the ash because with his daughter back, he had no reason to believe he’d ever need it. Whatever magic inside him that brought the hat to life, was gone. It was the only magic he’d ever been able to do. Something he was born with and took for granted. Not something he’d learned and practiced. He was angry that he'd never cared enough to do more thorough research.

He reached for the teapot out of habit and realized that he’d lost the only cup he brought with him. He could go back down the stairs and get another. He could calm himself down as he got another kettle on and started the whole process over. But he was tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but all the wasted years and all the wasted hats.

Instead, he went to the drawer where the gold-lipped teacup sat inside on a velvet cushion. He remembered how angry he’d felt the day he found it in Gold’s shop. He blamed Gold for stealing it from him, suspicious that the man knew exactly who he was. But it was just a cup. Just a reminder of Alice. They never used it as a cup. In the brief time they spent together in that cottage in the woods, they kept it on display in the kitchen window. A treasure instead of a useful dish.

He was tired of holding onto useless memories and silly trinkets. Alice was gone, and maybe someday he’d be able to accept it. There was always something he wanted. Always something to search for. He'd never been satisfied with what he had. Hope was futile now. He had everything he could ever need, and the one thing he wanted was the one thing he could never get back.

So he set the cup down on the saucer and filled it with cold tea. He glared at the useless blue hat in the center of his table, wishing it would spin and glow. He shut his eyes and whispered to himself.

“I just want to see her,” he pleaded. “I just want to see my wife again.” The hat didn’t respond. There was no magic in him anymore.

As he brought the teacup to his lips, he froze. He could feel it before seeing it or hearing it. His portal had always been noisy and loud, but Alice’s was silent. More like a window she could turn into a portal with nothing but intent and the brush of her fingers. He opened his eyes and looked down at the cup, but instead of the brown liquid, he was looking at something green.

Grass.


	14. Chapter 14

Working with Alice was one of Jefferson’s most brilliant ideas. To be completely honest, he’d concocted the plan as part of a lie. It was an excuse to see her again, but he did have to congratulate himself on his moment of brilliance.

They worked well together. Sometimes she found jobs from her realm, but more often than not, the jobs were his. And having the two of them together brought in a faster revenue. They were quicker as a team and began devising their own techniques for locating objects or haggling prices. Whoever made the deal and got the pay would bring in half the share to the other. Alice was hesitant to trust Jefferson at first, but she didn’t have nearly as much to lose. After a while, he seemed to gain her trust as well as her friendship.

But the increase in gold wasn’t the best part of his plan. Not only was he getting more gold than usual, but he had someone to spend his time with. He’d been lonely most of his life, and he hadn’t even noticed it. It had become such a regular part of himself. People were messy and complicated and had a tendency to leave. He only secured ties that would give him better deals and tried not to get emotionally attached to anyone. Just in case he had to back out of a deal and they turned on him. It was easier to make enemies than friends.

He couldn’t do that with Alice. He tried to get the hang of Wonderland’s unusual time just so they could spend as much of it together as possible. But sometimes they would spend a whole day looking for their next catch. Sometimes they had it within an hour and would spend the rest of the day exploring Wonderland until they got tired and laid out her cloak under a mushroom to rest.

Jefferson was always touching her in some way. He would reach out to hold her hand before the two of them raced down a hill. Or when he’d tuck her head beneath his chin while they spoke to an animal about a deal. Or like he was at that moment, lying on her cloak in the sunshine with his eyes closed as he gently brushed his fingers against her arm absentmindedly.

They’d been hunting for their latest catch for days. It was possibly the largest, most profitable hunt they’d ever taken together. It took them days just to track the object down, and once they got it, Jefferson had rushed right through his portal to exchange it. He’d shown up the next day as promised and gave Alice half her pay, but he hadn’t made another deal, and neither had she. So they decided to waste the day in a clearing in the sunshine. The air smelled like an apple orchard.

She was lying on her stomach, reading a book he’d brought her from the Enchanted Forest. She liked to read the stories from his land, so he’d begun to collect them for her. She hummed as she read, and kicked her feet back and forth in the air.

He was lying next to her, close enough for her mother to call it improper and scandalous. But Alice told him she liked that about him. That he didn’t force himself to act a certain way around her. He acted on his thoughts as they came, and she began to relax into the same patterns. He hadn’t been at all startled the first time she took his hand to trace patterns onto his palm. He’d merely wrapped her up in his arms and carried her down the path from her portal, laughing along with her joyous giggling.

Now he was dozing on the cloak as he listened to her hum. He was lying on his back with his knee up, moving it back and forth. His arm stretched out in front of her so that his fingers touched her forearm whenever she moved to turn a page.

He was enjoying the moment and the piece he found with Alice. They’d fallen together so quickly and so easily. She’d brought a warmth into his life he didn’t know he was missing. He thought about love before, but never in a realistic way. People were always talking about finding true love and having families and things like that. But it never appealed to him. He couldn’t imagine finding a woman who’d want to marry him after learning all the things he’d done in his past. Or even one who could put up with him for long. Despite all that, he didn’t think he’d ever find someone worth giving it all up for. Love was even messier and more complicated than friendships. He usually avoided it.

But that was the problem with love. It couldn’t be avoided.

He wanted Alice from the very start. Even though some part of his mind reminded him how much he didn’t want to trouble with love. Or how it wasn’t real or just not meant for him. He never forgot that Wonderland could exacerbate emotions, but it didn’t stop him anyway. His heart jumped whenever he’d find her waiting for him by their mushroom patch. Or when he caught sight of her walking down the road from her looking-glass. Even when he was back home in the Forest, she was on his mind.

Sometimes when they were together, he found that he couldn’t stop talking. He’d drill her with questions about her life and her passions. He wanted to know all about her and all her thoughts. She returned the interest with the same enthusiasm. They would chatter for hours, even while they worked. And sometimes they didn’t need to. They would lie under the mushrooms or bask in the sun, and it would be enough. He was satisfied with just being near her, and dreaded when she had to go home.

She always had to go home. He’d spent nights in Wonderland before. It was always risky since the strangest and most dangerous of Wonderland’s creatures came out at night. But he could do it. Alice never could. She always seemed to know exactly what time it was in her land, despite the oddness of Wonderland’s day cycles, and she’d be on the road to her portal again before dark.

He hadn’t asked her yet, but he wanted to. Sometimes he thought about the family she left at home. She came through the portal when her mother had her locked up in her room, or whenever she found the time to sneak away. He knew she had an older sister and a dead brother. Once or twice, she’d mentioned a cat named Dinah that she loved. But she never talked about them in depth. And their odd differences from her made him curious.

“Tell me about your brother,” he said, feeling her skin beneath his fingers as she turned the pages of her new book.

“What about him?” she asked.

“His name was John?”

“Yes, his name was John.”

“What happened to him?” She went silent, and there was nothing but the sound of bird songs and the flap of flutterby wings from a nearby patch of purple mushrooms.

“He did,” she said, turning another page.

“Tell me about him.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know everything there is to know about you. Even the things that make you sad.” She paused, and even though his eyes were shut, he could feel her gaze on him.

“He was much older than me,” she told him. “Already a man by the time I fell through the rabbit hole. He was the only one who believed me about Wonderland. Or at least he was convincing when he pretended to. But he told me not to tell anyone what I’d seen. I didn’t listen. I was just a child. I didn’t know they’d lock me up. When I came home, they told me he’d died. Just like that. Never told me how it happened. He just wasn’t there anymore.”

“And you loved him?”

“I loved him very much. I love my family of course. But my father is a busy man, and my sister has always been very different from me. She’s always so narrow and perfect. John was too, but he liked to play with me. Sometimes we’d ride out into the orchard together and play hide-and-seek in the trees. I miss him even now.”

“Seems like a good man,” he stated. “You were lucky to have someone like that in your life.”

He could feel her skin under his fingers and longed to pull her closer. To burrow his head beneath her arm and tangle their legs together. She said she didn’t mind when he touched her, but he didn’t want to overstep a boundary. He wanted her to be as comfortable with him as he was with her. To love him even. And it was strange how desperately he wanted her to love him.

So he was startled by her for the first time since they met. When he felt her lips touch his. His eyes shot open, and he looked up at the girl with dark eyes and golden hair. She leaned over him as she smiled.

“What was that for?” he questioned. Though his lips still tingled and his heart danced in his chest.

“For being beautiful,” she said. He laughed.

“Wonderland really has made you go mad.” She huffed but was still smiling.

“I’m not mad! Perfectly sensible!” He reached up to brush his fingers on the soft skin on her cheek.

“Sure you are,” he said. “As sensible as I am.”

“No. You’re the only mad one here, Just Jefferson.”

She poked him in the ribs. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him so that her weight rested on half of his body. She gasped but didn’t push him away. Instead, she put her hands on the ground at either side of his head and grinned down at him.

“Just Alice?” he said.

“Yes, Just Jefferson?”

“Would you kiss me again?”

“Absolutely not.” His heart dropped for just a moment, but she still had that sneaky smile on her face. “You kiss me.”

So he did. He smiled and lifted his head. She came down to meet him, and their lips touched. The first time she kissed him, she’d been gentle and curious, and soft. But now. Now he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her roughly, parting her lips and tasting her. She melted against him, lowering her arms so that he could rest on the cloak and there was nothing between them anymore. Her hair surrounded them, and he could see the sunlight filtering through the gold even with his eyes shut.

Her body was warm, and she smelled like an apple orchard. He could feel the buttons of her dress and longed to pull them apart. He knew no one in her land would know, and her reputation wouldn’t be soiled by his hands. But he wasn’t sure how she’d feel if he loosened one of the buttons. It just wasn’t the right time. Not until she was ready.

The realization of what he really wanted struck him as he kissed her deeply and tangled his fingers in her hair. He didn’t just want to pull open her buttons. He wanted to love her. Properly. And he had a gut feeling that he already did. He just wasn’t sure that she loved him back.

She pulled away and smiled down at him again. Her lips were pinker from his rough lips, and so were her cheeks from blushing.

“Just Jefferson?” she asked as she leaned on her elbow at his side and slipped her leg between his. He still had his arm beneath her shoulder, and so he pressed his hand against her back and pulled her in, just to rest his head on her arm and feel her heart beating. She fiddled with the silver buttons on his vest as she waited for him to get comfortable.

“Yes, Just Alice?” he replied.

“You like me? As a person?”

“Of course I do. That’s an odd question.”

“I just mean—you like spending time with me, yes?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But do you like me?” He shifted his head so he could look up at her, but she was gazing off through the blades of grass instead.

He wanted to tell her she was mad. Of course he liked her. He loved her. He thought it was obvious. But love was different where she came from. And he remembered the brief glimpse into her life that he’d seen. Marriage was an exchange of assets and titles and nothing more than ensuring the continuation of blue bloodlines. She’d likely been taught that love didn’t matter.

His other hand was still resting on her hip, so he lifted it and took her hand in his. He brought her fingers to his lips and thought of all the ways he could tell her he loved her without saying it. To prove to her that it wasn’t just her beauty or their working relationship. Titles and blue blood meant nothing to him. He just couldn’t find the words to say what he felt. And she’d gone silent as she waited for his answer.

He didn’t want to lie. Not to Alice. She made him want to be good and kind. Maybe even give up his dangerous life of stealing and trading just so he could take her home and be a worthy prospect for marriage. If she ever learned that marriage could, and should, be an exchange of love.

So he worked up the courage to tell her the truth.

“I like you,” he said, dragging her knuckles across his lips. “And I love you.”

She didn’t say anything, but she sucked in a gush of air and never let it back out. She didn’t pull away from him, but she didn’t move either. Not for a long time. So he held her fingers to his lips and waited for her to speak.

“But—why?” she finally asked when she was breathing again.

The question was a surprise, and he really wished she’d just drop the subject, so he didn’t have to keep telling the truth. He knew that would be the best way to deal with it. It was usually how he did things. The worst thing that could happen is that she wouldn’t want to see him again. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

But if that’s what she wanted—he’d give it to her. He’d do anything she asked. And not just because she had a pretty face and sly wit that matched his own. But because he could feel the ache deep within his heart. Even if Wonderland was causing him to mistake attraction for love, he didn’t care. Alice deserved happiness. He wanted to love her. He’d stay in Wonderland for the rest of his life if it meant he could keep loving her.

“Because,” he started. He lifted his head to look around at the view. They’d come to rest on a hill. So that between the blades of grass they could see far and wide. Even the Queen’s maze from far off, the hare’s burrow nestled in the valley, the forest where the smiling cat stalked the strangely thin trees. “Because I would give all this up—if that’s what you wanted. I’d become a farmer. A stable boy. I’d hunt for mushrooms and squirrels for a living. I’d give it all up.” She scooted down to his level so that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. He was nervous, and she was curious, and it was evident to the both of them.

“You would do that for me?” she questioned.

“I’d do anything for you,” he admitted. She pulled her hand from his grasp and pressed her palm against his cheek. Her skin was warm, and he shut his eyes.

“You know you’re the only man I’ve ever known who truly wanted to know me,” she told him. He opened his eyes again, studying her. “Every man I’ve ever met outside of my own family has treated me like property at an auction. But not you.”

“Women aren’t property where I’m from, Alice.”

It was always serious when they used each other’s proper names. “Just Alice” and “Just Jefferson” were used in fun and games, but when conversation grew serious, they would drop the joke. He wanted her to know that he meant what he said. He loved her and never wanted to own her. He just wanted to be close to her. Her happiness meant more to him than all the gold in any realm. The only thing he truly, selfishly wanted was for her to love him back.

“Even still,” she said with a shake of her head. “I doubt all the men in the Enchanted Forest are like you.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m the worst of them. The scum they scrape off the trees. Next to the ogres, of course.” She laughed and leaned forward to kiss him again. He dropped his head back onto the cloak so she could hold his face in her hands. The kiss left his mind dazed and his heart soaring. She pulled away and smiled down at him.

“And that obnoxious humor is one of the many reasons I love you,” she said.


	15. Chapter 15

The grass looked so real that Jefferson was almost sure if he reached right into the cup, he’d be able to touch it. He carefully set it down on the table, watching the ripples of liquid move over the grass, like a watery window. Then he tried precisely that. He reached into the cup but met with nothing but tea. The surface rippled and the image of the grass distorted until it was tea again. He couldn’t reach in because it wasn’t a portal, but it was something.

His employer wanted the cup badly enough to pay more than Jefferson’s usual payment. But he hadn’t been too upset when he claimed he'd lost track of it. It couldn’t have been significant. The cup belonged to Wonderland. To the hare. The hare said it was more valuable in magic than in gold. And somehow it had found its way into Storybrooke during the curse. He felt stupid for never testing the thing. They’d held onto it like a sentimental trinket. Not the magical artifact that it was.

In his own defense, he’d been distracted. He spent the years after Alice’s death trying to raise their daughter. After that, he’d spent time in Wonderland trying to get back to her. In Storybrooke all he wanted was to find a way to get her back. He hadn’t given the cup much thought after seeing it in Gold’s shop. It only reminded him of what he’d lost, so he hid it away and focused on the one good thing he had left.

There weren’t many options available to him, regarding magic. He could go to Regina, but he couldn’t trust her. She’d never forgiven him for what he’d done, and she would warp the cup for her own gain. She took everything from him and continuously used him and manipulated him. He couldn’t imagine being in the same room with her without wanting to wrap his hands around her throat. But since there was magic in Storybrooke now, he knew it wouldn’t end well for him.

Mr. Gold was out of the question. He already made the mistake of asking for his help once. Jefferson had plenty of money to trade, but Gold never put much value in money. He couldn’t risk losing Grace again or getting caught up in a favor that would cost her another parent. He’d finally given her everything he wanted her to have. She had to be the most important thing in his life. Even Alice stressed that. Grace came first, no matter what.

He groaned when he realized what option that left him. Mary-Margaret and her Charming husband were also out of the question, even though they weren’t magic users themselves. He didn’t want to deal with their meddling and heroic speeches about truth and honor or true love or whatever they preached.

But Emma. Emma might get him what he wanted. He’d tried to use her help before, in a last-ditch moment of desperation. When his mind had been so warped after years of torture. It ended with him getting thrown out of a window. To be fair to Emma, she didn’t believe him then. She didn’t know what she knew now. Of course she thought he was insane.

She’d inherited her parents' sense of truth and honor and habitual meddling. But she was the more tolerable of the trio. She had good intentions and likely wouldn’t give him any altruistic speeches about being a hero. Though he was sure he hadn’t left a good impression on her.

He emptied the cup and left the house. He and Grace tried to get out more often now that they had each other again. He took her to the playground sometimes. Or brought her to see her friends. He saved all his errands for when she was home so that she didn’t have to feel so cooped up and trapped. He never wanted her to feel like a bird in a pretty cage. But he didn’t like leaving his house.

The little yellow Beetle was parked outside of the sheriff’s station when Jefferson arrived. He was pleased to know he wouldn’t have to go hunt her down. Unfortunately, David was the only person in sight when he let himself in. The insufferable man looked up when he approached. His eyebrows rose since he was unaccustomed to seeing Jefferson in town. Or at all anymore.

“Jefferson,” he said with mild shock. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to see Sheriff Swan,” Jefferson replied. His voice was quiet, and almost like a growl.

He looked around the station for any sign of the blonde woman. The man’s daughter. Actually, technically younger than Grace. But she’d aged in the years they were cursed, and Grace hadn’t. So her father, the Charming Prince, didn’t look much older than her at all. Jefferson found it disturbing and tried not to think about it too much.

“She went down to Granny’s to pick up some lunch. Been a quiet day,” David told him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing the man with the scarf tied tightly around his throat. He was going to start an interrogation. Prying. They were always doing that. Trying to save everyone. So distrustful of those who were neither all good or all bad.

“I’ll wait,” Jefferson decided. He took a seat on the bench opposite David’s desk. He stared at the wall, determined not to let the man get anything out of him. If Emma was good for anything, it was that she wouldn’t annoy it out of him.

“Is there an emergency?” David questioned. “I could help. Where’s your daughter? What’s her name again? Paige?”

“Her name is Grace,” Jefferson said with a short tone. “She’s fine. She’s at school.”

“She’s in Henry’s class, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“They seem to get along well.”

“So it seems.”

“We don’t see you much down here in town.”

“I prefer it that way.”

“Does Grace?”

David had pushed too far. He always did, and that was why Jefferson avoided him if he could. He turned his cold blue eyes on the man behind the desk, who was watching him curiously, knowing he’d gotten under Jefferson’s skin. The doors opened down the hall, and Emma’s voice rang out through the station.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said as she rushed in. “Granny gave us extra fries. And I got hot chocol….” She froze when she caught sight of Jefferson sitting on the bench with his hands folded neatly in his lap. “Jefferson,” she said with alarm. She had reason to be alarmed, and he almost felt guilty for it. For when he’d drugged her and held her hostage in the hopes that she could build him a hat that would take him home with Grace. He stood slowly, trying not to spook her any more than his presence already had.

“I had a matter I wanted to discuss with you,” he said in the same quiet tone. Emma shot David a look before nodding.

“Yeah, sure. What can I do for you?” She moved over to the desk and dispersed food between them.

“In private,” Jefferson added.

“Alright. Um—my office is in there.” She gestured toward the office with clear glass windows. Jefferson immediately stepped aside before she’d finished exchanging food with David. Once she was done and had her lunch in tow, she stepped into the office and shut the door with a well-placed kick. “What can I help you with?”

“I had a question,” he told her, refusing to sit down.

“Shoot.”

“It’s about magic.”

“Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet. Still a little weird for me, to be honest.”

“I preferred to come to someone who wouldn’t—meddle. Or manipulate me.” She gave him a sympathetic nod. So Henry had shared his story with her.

“I hear that. So what’s the question?” He watched her dig through a greasy brown paper bag for fries. He pulled the teacup out of the pocket of his coat and set it down between them on the desk. He’d wrapped it in a scarf to keep it from breaking, and unwrapped it while she watched with caution.  
She seemed relieved when she realized it was only a cup. He reached for the paper cup of steaming hot chocolate.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“No. Go right ahead,” she told him. He pulled off the lid and poured the hot chocolate into the cup. Nothing changed. His eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “Is something supposed to happen?” she asked. He shook his head and leaned on the desk, hovering over the cup.

“Show me,” he said, but the cup did nothing.

“What is it supposed to show you?” He had the feeling she still thought he was insane. He sighed heavily and thought about exactly what he’d said right before the cup changed. Maybe it acted like a mirror. It showed you what you asked it to show you.

“Show me her,” he instructed. He couldn’t say her name. Not in front of Emma. “My wife.”

The surface shimmered, and the brown chocolate liquid disappeared to show the same image of grass. He laughed, and she peered inside.

“That’s amazing,” she remarked. “What is this?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. It’s not a portal. I know that much. You can’t breach the surface. But all I can see is—grass. Which isn’t exactly helpful.”

“You asked it to show you your wife. I didn’t know you had a wife.” He clenched his jaw and nodded, but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I mean, I knew Grace had to have a mother, but Henry’s book never said anything about her. Or what happened.”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” She sighed and leaned on the desk as he stood back. She put her hands on either side of the cup and looked inside.

“Alright, so you have a freaky cup. You asked it to show you someone, it shows you grass. Maybe it acts like one of those magic mirrors. Is there—is there a possibility that your wife is—dead?” She asked the question with caution. She still didn’t trust him. He finally moved his cold blue eyes to hers.

“The Queen of Hearts took her head,” he stated. She nodded as if this was obvious.

“Right,” she agreed. He groaned again. For the savior, she seemed kind of dim. He reached up to remove the scarf around his neck. He’d shown her the scars once before, but she hadn’t remembered. Or maybe her brain just hadn’t processed the truth yet. She examined the scars. “I see,” she finally said. “So you don’t die—when you lose your head.”

“Not in Wonderland. It’s a unique magic. Similar to the enchanted hearts that gave the Queen her name. But I didn’t—I didn’t know that then. If I’d known there was even the slightest possibility that she was still alive, I would have gone back for her sooner.”

“But there’s still a possibility she isn’t. If what you’re saying is true. Then it means she went head-to-head with Cora. That usually doesn’t end well.” He reluctantly nodded.

“I don’t know for certain. All I know is that—if she’s dead, she would have died in Wonderland. And that’s not Wonderland.” He waved a hand toward the cup.

“How can you be sure it’s not showing us Wonderland?”

“Because the grass in Wonderland grows up to eight feet tall. Does that grass look eight feet tall to you?”

“No. You’re right. This is all very new to me. And I don’t know a whole lot about Wonderland.” She took the cup in her hands and moved it around. “Maybe it does act like a mirror. It reflects what you hold in front of it. Have you tried moving it around?”

“I didn’t want it to spill.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

He watched as she tipped the cup toward herself. He expected the chocolate to spill out and dump all over her desk. But nothing splattered and she looked confused as she peered inside.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Roses,” she said. “I think.” He hurried around the desk to look. She was right. The cup was showing the roots of a bush of white roses. She stood up. “Let’s see if we can see anything else,” she said. But as soon as she turned, the cup emptied. Hot chocolate splashed out and spilled onto her boots. “Damn.”

“Maybe it only holds for short periods of time,” he said as he took the cup out of her hand and went to clean it with the scarf.

“Or it only holds on the thing you asked it to show you.”

“Did you catch anything useful?”

“I don’t know. I might have seen something familiar.” He wrapped the cup back up and looked at her from across the desk.

“Do you mind sharing with me?”

“I can show you. I think. Maybe.”

“Is now a good time?” she sighed and reached for her keys. Then she lifted her greasy bag of food and her paper cup.

“A good a time as any,” she decided.


	16. Chapter 16

Jefferson had the notion that this was not one of his better ideas, and Alice probably wasn’t going to be very happy about it. So, for the first time in his life, he decided not to act on a whim. Instead, he made a plan.

He proposed the idea to Alice one afternoon when he walked her back to her portal after a long day of hunting for wares to sell and, more importantly, kissing. She had a furious pink blush on her cheeks, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as they walked hand-in-hand. He was so caught up in her radiance that he tripped over a wayward stone and recovered to the sound of her giggling.

“I want to see you again,” he said as he smoothed out his vest and pretended he hadn’t almost fallen on his face.

“You will see me again,” she promised. She retook his hand, and he immediately got distracted again. Though this time he tried to pay more attention to the road.

“I meant—I can’t wait for us to meet up in Wonderland again.” She turned to him. Her expression turned serious and concerned.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to see more of where you come from.” She shook her head before he could finish explaining himself.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t mean I want to come to another party. I want to see—your apple orchard. I want to see your bedroom.”

“My bedroom?” Her voice had gone shrill and high pitched, and he realized how improper it was for him to want to see her most private space.

“I mean—I just want to see more of what makes you-you. Not that I want….”

“I know what you meant.” The blush had returned, but it left the smile behind. She quickly hid it behind her hair so that he had to lean forward just to see her face.

“If I could take you to the Enchanted Forest, I would. I’ve told you everything about it.”

“And it sounds wonderful.”

“I just want to know everything there is to know about you.”

“I understand that.”

“Part of that means I want to know where you come from.” She stopped in the road and turned to face him. She had her lip pinched between her teeth, and she couldn’t keep her eyes on him. She looked around at Wonderland, vibrant and alive, but her expression was dark, and a cloud rolled over the sun and cast a shadow on the land below. “You’re afraid,” he stated.

“It’s just that—my mother already suspects something is going on between us.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn’t think her mother gave him a second thought after that party.

“I haven’t seen her in over a year. How could she possibly be concerned about me?” She looked down at her feet and shuffled her black shoes nervously.

“She confronted me about it in the rose garden. She knows I sneak out at night. She hasn’t figured out how I get away or where I go. She mentioned you by name. As fault.”

“She met me once.”

“Yes, but….” She shook her head again. “She knew. That I—that I was sort of—taken by you. And since you’re the only man who’s ever really shown me any attention besides this ancient viscount who seems to be on the market to replace his departed wife with someone to take care of his estate she sort of placed all the blame on you and I….”

“Alice, Alice. Slow down. You’re not making much sense, love.” She warmed at his words. She looked up at him, and her expression faded into anxiety. She took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I just can’t begin to imagine what would happen if she caught us together. I’d be ruined, and she’d have you locked up in an instant.” He reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek. She went silent and her breath caught in her throat.

“What are you more afraid of? Being ruined or me being caught?” He moved his thumb over her lips with a feather-light touch. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she breathed heavily.

“I’m more afraid of—losing you—than anything else.”

“Would you be able to get out of your room without being caught?”

“Of course. I’ve done it loads of times.” He smiled.

“I’ll stay away from the house. You meet me in the hedges and show me the orchard.” Her eyes opened again, and he pulled his hand back.

“Why do you want to see the orchard?”

“Because it made you happy.” She nodded quickly.

“Tonight,” she decided. “Wait for me. I can’t give you a time. I’ll find you. Stay in the space behind the hedges. Close to your portal so you can leave quickly if I can’t get out. The gardener comes at sunrise. So leave before then if I can’t make it out.”

“But you’ll try?”

“I will.” She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then she slipped into the looking-glass and disappeared.

He waited in the hedges as promised. It was dark in her world when he stepped through and found himself behind the vines. The house was still and silent this time, and only a few windows twinkled with candlelight. He didn’t know which window Alice would come from, but he kept his eyes on the house as he paced behind the hedges waiting and hoping she’d be able to make it out before sunrise.

One by one, the lights were snuffed out all except for one. He kept his eyes on that one and waited, listening to the sounds of crickets and biting his thumbnail. Finally, the light went out, and a moment later the window opened. He stilled and watched her climb out of the window on the second story. His heart jumped into his throat when he imagined her falling from her place and hurting herself. He knew he loved her already, but that moment, watching her dangle from an open window, he regretted asking her to meet him. If she fell, it’d be all his fault. And he didn’t breathe again until both of her feet were on the ground, and she was running across the lawn toward the hedges.

He hurried around the bend to meet with her. Then he spotted her coming around the corner. She wore a long nightdress and a robe that was tied tightly at her waist. It was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than constricting gowns and petticoats. When their bodies crashed together, he felt every inch of her. Nothing between her skin and his fingers but the thin fabrics. She held him close, and he kissed the side of her head and shut his eyes.

“For a moment there, I thought you might fall,” he said. She shook her head.

“The bricks provide a ledge to stand on,” she told him. “I’ve done it hundreds of times. We’re just lucky my mother stopped barring my window. She used to put a guard beneath it just to make sure I didn’t sneak out. But she’d still find mud on my clothes in the morning.” He smiled and pulled away, taking her face in his hands so he could examine her in a world that wasn’t as bright as Wonderland. Where the air alone didn’t make him feel things more intensely than he should.

But he still felt it. Looking at her shining eyes in the dark. The feel of her loose hair in his fingers and the softness of her body against his chest. The way his heart still pounded from that momentary fear. He loved her. Wholeheartedly. He leaned forward and kissed her nose. She gripped her fingers in his coat as he shut his eyes again. Just savoring the feel of her.

“You wanted to see the orchard?” she reminded him. He didn’t open his eyes or let her go.

“I’m content staying right here with you.”

“We’re less likely to be caught in the orchard. The farmers go home at night. Servants sometimes lurk in the gardens.” He sighed heavily.

He didn’t care if they were found. The worst that could happen is that her parents insisted they married. And he wasn’t afraid of that. But he was a commoner in their eyes. And he realized then why she feared it so much. Of course, they wouldn’t force him to marry her. They’d force her to wed someone else. Quickly. In the hopes that they’d be able to cover up an unexpected pregnancy. He gripped his hand around her waist, feeling her skin beneath the fabric of her robe and nightdress. He wouldn’t let that happen. If she were ever going to bear his child, they would be together.

“How do we get into the orchard?” he asked.

“I’ll show you. Follow me.” She pulled away and took his hand. Then she led him past his open portal to the other side of the house. She peeked out through the hedges and turned to face him.

“This is the opposite side of the house from the family apartments,” she explained as she looked up at the wall above them. “And the servants’ quarters. We’re close to the kitchens, so we have to stay quiet just in case someone is lurking about. But we should be able to do this quickly.”

“How?” She smiled at him.

“Give me a lift?” He was more than happy to. He leaned against the wall and held out his hands. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, and somehow that didn’t surprise him. The air was chilly but not cold and even though he’d never seen her take off her shoes. She didn’t seem the type to wear them when she didn’t have to. She slid a bare foot into his interlocked fingers, and he hoisted her up. “Splendid,” she said from above. He watched her clamor onto the wall, where she sat perched like a beautiful bird. Her gown and her hair fluttering in an apple scented breeze. She looked back down at him as he pressed his back against the hedges and sized up the distance. “Think you can make it?” He pulled off his coat and tossed it up to her. She caught it and draped it over the wall.

“Sure,” he said as he shook out his fingers and rolled up his sleeves. “I used to be good at this. Back when I was young.”

“I can’t imagine you’re much older than twenty.”

“Twenty-one.”

“I rest my case.”

“At least I think I am. I’ve spent a lot of time in worlds where time doesn’t seem to move.”

“Wonderland is all the rage in anti-aging these days.” He laughed and made a running jump. Though he didn’t get a very good head start, he managed to push off the wall with his boot and lock his fingers at the top. She watched as he pulled himself up and then sat huffing beside her.

“Lovely cage,” he remarked at the estate sparkling in starlight. She grimaced.

“Sure. If you like that sort of thing. We shouldn’t stay up here long. Someone will spot us eventually.”

“Good idea. I’ll catch you.” He hopped over the other side, hitting the dirt on his feet and recovering quickly from the impact. The wall wasn’t as high as he thought it would be. She threw the coat down and he tossed it aside and lifted both his hands. She climbed over the side, turning her body and holding on with her hands until his were on her waist again. Then she let go and he set her down on the dirt. She didn’t move.

“Jefferson?” she said as he pressed his lips against the back of her head. He was trying not to think about pulling her against his body and sliding his hands around the front of her. He could feel every bit of her beneath the robe, but he kept his hands in place on her waist.

“Yes?” he asked.

“You know what happens to an unmarried woman in this land if she’s caught in a compromising situation?”

“I considered it.” She took a deep breath, almost as if she was considering it herself. Not the repercussions of being caught with him in the orchard, but the compromising situation itself.

“It doesn’t frighten you?” It did. But not for the reasons she thought.

He didn’t want to lose her because he’d been foolish enough to come to her land. He didn’t want to scare her away by being too forward. So he released his grip on her waist and stepped away. He located the coat he’d left abandoned on the ground and wiped off the dirt and leaves while she tried to hide her blush. Then he lifted the coat and set it on her shoulders. She sent him a quiet smile, and he led her into the trees.

“So this is your orchard,” he remarked as he took in the sight of the trees above. The night was alive with the sound of crickets and frogs. The noise was almost deafening. She stepped carefully into the twigs and leaves but kept moving farther from the house and the wall.

“This is my orchard,” she said.

“Tell me about it.” He walked ahead of her and then turned to walk backward so he could watch her. He didn’t care if he tripped or knocked into a tree. She’d seen him fumble over her before.

“It’s been in my family for generations,” she said. “Most of the Liddell’s spent their time in the city. Just owned the land. All the land in the area belongs to my father. So all the farmers work for him. We used to travel here just for the summer months. Until I went mad. Then they decided to stay permanently. So no one had to see. But servants talk. Rumors spread.”

She went quiet, and he frowned. Thankfully, he hadn’t fallen yet, though he had slipped a few times on the uneven ground. They passed a tree, and the house was now deeply shaded by them. They were in full fruit. Thick apples hung low on the branches. He stopped by one of them and reached up to pick a pink apple from a nearby tree.

“Looks like you’ll be doing harvest soon,” he said as the apple popped off its stem.

“In a few more weeks, yes. My parents like to throw a party to celebrate the harvest. Something almost primitive about it, you know? I always felt like we should light fires and leave offerings for the fairies.” He turned around to face her and held the apple out.

“Is it any good?”

“Have you never tasted an apple before?”

“The apples in my land are red.” She smiled.

“My brother John actually bred these apples. He had a real talent for it. He wanted something sweeter than what we used to grow, but still tart. He called them ‘little queen’ apples. This is the only place in any realm that grows apples like this. Try it.” She pushed his hands up, holding her delicate fingers beneath his.

“Just right off the tree?”

“Why not? Live a little.” He smiled and wiped the apple on the front of his vest to make sure it wasn’t dirty or had any holes for worms. Then he took a bite.

“Mm,” he said. “Sour.” She smiled.

“They’re not ripe yet,” she explained. “Give them a few more weeks, and they’ll be the sweetest, tartest apples you’ve ever tasted. I’ll bring you some when they’re done.” He handed the apple out, and she took a small bite.

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I bet you’re sweeter.” She smiled.

“I’m afraid I’m not an apple.” He took the apple out of his hand and leaned down to press his lips to hers.

“You taste like one. Sweet. And tart.” She blushed again.

“You spoil me rotten you know. What good is an apple if it’s rotten?” He tossed the apple into the air and caught it as it came back down.

“My love,” he said. “I haven’t even begun to spoil you yet.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him toss it around.

“So am I an apple or am I a bird?” she questioned. He thought about it for a moment before answering.

“We’ll just add that to the growing list of pet names,” he decided. She reached out and caught the apple before he could. She brought it back to her lips and took another bite.

“Race you to the river,” she said.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked.

“Maybe I’ll let you kiss me again.” So he reached out and yanked the coat up over her head before taking off at a run. “You cheated!”

“You shouldn’t have made the prize so enticing!” he called back.


	17. Chapter 17

Emma’s little yellow Beetle came to a stop out front of the cemetery. Jefferson’s heart ached as he climbed out of his car and met her on the curb. She finished her greasy meal on the ride and thankfully only had the paper cup in her hands. He could smell the cinnamon where he stood.

“You think she’s here?” he asked her, before saying anything else. She let out a sigh and slapped her hand to her side.

“I have a hunch,” she told him.

He decided to humor her. He motioned toward the gate, and she stepped forward. He was silent as he followed her through the rows of graves. She looked around, but he didn’t know what she was looking for since he hadn’t actually given her Alice’s name. But she must have seen something in the cup that led her to believe the roses were there.

Finally, she caught sight of something familiar and hurried through the trimmed green grass, carefully avoiding the headstones of the people he wasn’t even sure existed in Storybrooke. She stopped before a grave. The stone itself had been lost behind an overgrown bush of tangled roses that grew from the head of the grave.

“I’m not sure,” she said, motioning toward the headstone. “I thought I caught sight of Regina’s mausoleum in the cup. That’s why I brought you here.” Jefferson looked up where Regina’s mausoleum was hidden in the shadows of trees.

“Roses don’t grow wild,” he said as he stepped forward and knelt before them. “They have to be tended to. Maintained.” He pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flicked it open. “They’re the wrong color,” he told her, cutting a large white blossom from its stem and tossing it onto the grass. He did it to the next one, and the next, until he’d pricked his fingers enough to make them bleed, but the name on the stone was now visible through the vines.

“Alice Liddell,” Emma read. “If you’re the hatter. Does that make her—Alice Alice?” There was a rabbit carved into the stone. He reached out and pressed a scratched hand against the carving, but didn’t answer her question.

“It’s not possible,” he said.

“You never said your wife was Alice. I know about Alice. The movie at least. I never got around to reading the book.”

“That wasn’t Alice,” he told her. “Wasn’t me.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Wasn’t she like—ten?”

“She was seven when she fell through the rabbit hole. We met when she was nineteen. I was twenty.”

“Mm. There’s always something they get wrong. Alice though. That’s a bit of surprise. I don’t think Henry’s book said anything about Alice hooking up with the Mad Hatter.” He sent her a glare. Both for calling him “mad” and also suggesting that what he and Alice had was as simple as a “hook up.” He wanted her to stop talking.

“It’s not possible,” he repeated, standing back to look over the grave. Aside from the name and the carving—there was nothing else. Nothing personal. Nothing that said she was a wife and a mother. No date of birth or death.

“Why not?” she asked him as she sipped her hot chocolate.

“She died—if she died—in Wonderland. If there were a body—it would still be in Wonderland.”

“Yeah, but Cora found a way out of Wonderland. Maybe Alice did too. And Regina did trap you here. You were one of the only people who knew.”

He was glad to hear her say it. He had to admit there were times when he’d questioned his own sanity during the curse. It was nice to hear it confirmed. Or at least it was nice to know she no longer thought he was insane. Though he hadn’t given her any reason to believe otherwise. The curse nearly made that real.

“I didn’t know it was here. If she wanted to torture me with it, I would have known. She would have dangled it in front of me like she did with Grace.” She sipped her hot chocolate.

“Well, someone’s been tending to these roses. Like you said. They don’t grow wild. And they’re fully bloomed. Someone loves them.”

“You don’t think it’s Regina?”

“Actually, this time I’m not sure. Regina likes to be seen. She likes credit. I can’t say who it is, though. Just that it’s not—Alice.”

“Alice isn’t here,” he told her. He could tell that she didn’t believe him.

“Maybe the cup can only show you something from the land you’re in. Maybe it can’t show you what’s in Wonderland because we’re not in Wonderland. So it showed you the closest thing this world has to Alice.” He shook his head again.

“No. Other things in this world were close to Alice. Grace, for starters. She shares her blood.”

“I still can’t believe she’s the daughter of Alice. Man, it’s going to take me years to get used to this.” He ignored it.

“Thank you, Sheriff Swan. I think I’ve got it from here.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad I could help. Even if it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for.” He gave her a quick nod and watched her walk through the graves to her yellow Beetle. No, it wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. But it was more than he’d started with.


	18. Chapter 18

Jefferson knew that the joy of their time in Wonderland would eventually come to an end. They hadn’t spoken about it beyond their conversation that day on the hill, though Jefferson took to kissing Alice as regularly as he touched her. Sometimes they’d spend the entire trip in each other’s arms, laughing and stealing kisses whenever they could spare the moment.

Thought Alice hadn’t brought it up, Jefferson knew someday he’d have to make a choice. He would either have to find a way to bring her home to the Enchanted Forest or find a way to live in her world. Maybe even find a way for the both of them to live in Wonderland together. He just knew that eventually her mother would find someone to marry her to, and he never wanted to lose her.

Wonderland had a peculiar way of reflecting Alice’s moods. On days when she would storm through her looking-glass after a fight with her mother, the sky would storm in anger, and a hot wind would blow in from the Red Queen’s hedges. On days when she was happy, the sun would shine, and birds would sing. He wasn’t sure if it was really Wonderland that was perceptive of her, or if he just imagined it that way. There was never any knowing with Wonderland. It seemed as alive as its inhabitants.

He still knew precisely how Alice was feeling the moment he stepped through his portal and into the rain. He’d never seen rain in Wonderland. The dark purple clouds above dripped with water that was thick and smelled sweeter than any rain he’d ever seen before. He lifted the collar of his coat against the drizzle and hurried down to the patch of mushrooms that had become their regular meeting place. Alice was tucked under the cap of the largest red mushroom, using it as an umbrella to keep her out of the rain. She was leaning against the stem, with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

He hurried under the safety of the mushroom and dropped to her side.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, before saying hello or kissing her like he usually did.

“What makes you think something is the matter?” she asked. He smiled and gestured to the water pouring over the edge of the mushroom cap.

“It’s raining.”

“What’s that got to do with me? Does it not rain where you come from?” He laughed and shook his head, leaning on his elbow on the cloak she’d laid out.

“Oh, my dear Just Alice,” he said with a sigh. She warmed to his words and released her tight grip on her knees. She stretched her legs out, careful to keep them from getting wet, then rested her head against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “How long has it been since we met?” he asked, rubbing his hands over the bare skill on her arms.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Time moves differently in Wonderland.”

“How long has it been for you? In your world?”

“Several months.” He blinked, a bit startled by her answer.

“Only several?” She looked up at him.

“How long has it been for you?”

“A year at least.” She sat up to face him.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” She looked away, blinking a few times as she carefully calculated the time.

“Curious,” she said. He smiled and reached up to brush his fingers over her cheek.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re upset.” She sighed and pressed her hands to his chest.

“I’m not upset,” she lied. “I just—don’t want to work today. I’m tired of working. I just want this day. For the both of us. To just stay here under this mushroom and not leave until it’s time to go.”

“We can stay as long as you want, Alice.” He meant it. Truly. He’d stay forever if she asked. She pressed her palm flat against his cheek.

“You do know how I feel for you?” she questioned.

“Remind me.” She smiled and shook her head.

“You know I love you.”

“I do now,” he replied with a smile. She sent it back, but there was still something wrong.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve known all along.”

“Perhaps. But it’s nice to hear you say it once in awhile.”

“In your land—in the Enchanted Forest—what do people do when they’re in love?” He wasn’t sure what she meant.

“They usually say it—that’s a good place to start. Kissing is always enjoyable.” He paused as she looked at him expectantly. Her dark eyes shining with the curiosity he’d come to know so well.

“And?” she asked.

“Marriage,” he choked out.

Of course he’d thought about that. But he figured it was a question better left for another time. When they finally figured out how to be together in the same realm more permanently. She ran her thumb over his skin. He was nervous now, and if he knew her well enough to know when she was upset; she undoubtedly knew him well enough to know when he was nervous.

“Is that all?” she asked. His eyes went wide.

“I’m afraid I don’t—know what you mean,” he admitted.

She moved forward and slid onto his lap, knocking the wind out of him as she pressed her lips against his.

“You don’t desire me?” she asked. His heart was beating quickly in his chest. She’d loosened her hair so that it fell around them. He had his hands on her waist but could feel the buttons on the back of her dress. He could see her breathing quickly. She was nervous too.

“O-of course I do,” he stuttered. “But….”

“Is it—uncommon in your land?”

“It’s not uncommon. It’s common. Very common, in fact.”

“Is it a—marriage only kind of situation? Are you afraid of ruining your purity before you’re wed?” He had to laugh. If she only knew.

“It’s not like that where I come from,” he told her. “Love is—love. So long as it’s true—we don’t have the same kind of—restrictions. Or perceptions of—purity.”

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“And you desire me?” He paused, unable to speak now that he knew what she was getting at. It wasn’t something they’d talked about before. He figured a girl with her background probably wanted to save herself for marriage. It was what she’d been taught all her life. But he did want her. Badly. And now that she was sitting on him, his mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Have you thought about me—in that way?” she asked.

“Have you?” he questioned. She laughed.

“I’ve thought about you—constantly.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m saying it now? Now answer the question.” He decided to be truthful again. His mind was hazy, and his body ached for her. She was so warm with her legs wrapped around him, but he could still feel her dress getting in the way. Ruffles and lace, petticoats and ribbons and buttons and buttons and buttons, and all the other nonsense that was keeping them apart.

“I’ve thought about you every day,” he told her. “Since the day we first met. Truly met. I thought about how your dresses always have too many buttons, and I’d give anything to rip them all open. It keeps me up at night. Sometimes I find it difficult to work with you. That night in the orchard. I could barely keep my head on straight.”

“Why have you said anything?”

“You’re a lady. I wanted you to want me first.”

“I want you now.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. Thoughts of her strange mood had been pushed aside. He assumed it was nothing but nervousness. He pulled her to his lips and kissed her until they were pink and his clothes had become uncomfortably tight. Then she sat up and turned her back on him so he could finally pull open each and every one of those buttons. He did it slowly, kissing her neck every time he got one loose.

“Why do you have so many buttons?” he whispered into the crook of her neck as he slipped another finger through a button.

“My mother thinks it discourages men from wanting to disrobe me,” she told him. He laughed. It had the opposite effect. He never would have noticed her buttons at all if her dress didn’t have so many. It wouldn’t keep him up at night. The first intimate thought he’d ever had about her was because of those buttons, and that only avalanched into what he was feeling now.

“Didn’t work,” he said. She smiled and pulled her hair aside so he could kiss her shoulder and work the rest of the buttons free.

And once he finished with them, he got rid of all the other constricting and binding clothes she was forced to wear. When there was nothing between them but air, he filled that space too. He laid her down on the cloak and ran his fingers over all the lines and marks the clothes left on her skin until they’d faded beneath his lips. She tasted as sweet as he imagined, and she felt even better.

He made love to her under a tall mushroom until the trickle of rain slowed, and the sun began to shine again. He decided that he had to find a way for them to be together. He would marry her if she’d have him. He’d find a way to bring her home. And if that didn’t work, he’d travel to her land and take her from that pretty cage. He’d find proper work and be a good husband. He would do any of it if that’s what she wanted. He was going to ask. He just hadn’t decided when or where.

But when he walked her back to her portal later in the afternoon, her clouded mood had returned. Wisps of colored clouds hung low in the sky, and thunder rolled through, threatening the land with more sweet rain. The sky had been clear for most of the day. They’d spent the afternoon wrapped in her cloak under the mushroom, naked and free and deeply in love.

That joy and the clear skies were gone now. When she told him she had to go home, the sky darkened again. He helped her dress in all her constricting clothes and reluctantly reset every button, kissing the back of her neck as he worked on them. It began to drizzle again as they walked hand-in-hand to the waiting looking-glass. Once they reached it, she unclasped the cloak from her shoulders and neatly tucked it into his arms. She kissed him goodbye, long and hard in the sweet drizzle, and when she slipped through the glass, the thunder rolled. The rain went from delicate little drops to a full downpour.


	19. Chapter 19

The shovel hit the grassy earth with a satisfying crunch. Jefferson hit the root of the rosebush and felt it crack against the metal and reverberate through his arms. He pushed the shovel into the grass and then swung it over his shoulder, disposing of the part of the rosebush he managed to break apart. Then he got to work on the rest.

He was there for most of the day, and the cemetery was located in a moderately quiet part of town, so no one noticed him. He kept his eye on his watch, and just before school let out, he called to have Grace go home with a friend.

Despite how quiet it was near the cemetery, someone was bound to notice the man digging at a gravesite. It was no surprise to him when he heard Emma’s voice from above the sufficient hole he’d dug around himself.

“Uh—Jefferson?” she asked. He looked up, shading his eyes against the sunlight. The woman was standing at the edge of the hole, grimly looking down at him. “Look,” she said. “I didn’t say anything when you cut up the roses because I figured—she’s your wife. If anyone has the right to tear up her roses, it’s you. But this? I can’t allow this. It’s illegal, Jefferson. As well as morally questionable. Even for you.”

“I’m almost done,” he told her. Then he went back to work, sinking the shovel into the damp earth and tossing it back onto the ground so close to Emma that she had to jump to the side to avoid it.

“I get that you’re grieving and you’ve obviously reached the ‘grasping at straws’ stage of the process, but you can’t go around digging up graves. What exactly are you expecting to find?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. “I’m expecting to find nothing.”

“Then why are you still digging?”

“She’s not here. So it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. This is public property. It’s a grave. Regardless of whether it’s empty or not.”

“Then arrest me.” She didn’t move and he didn’t expect her to. She had that meddling trait like her parents. She was going to let him finish his task so she could find out what it was he was looking for.

“So what? You’re just going to keep digging? What happens if you don’t find anything? Where’s your daughter?”

“Grace went home with a friend. She’s fine. I already checked on her. She’s doing homework and watching cartoons. I’ll stop when I reach six feet.”

“And what if you do find something?” she questioned after a few minutes of silent digging.

“Then I’ll have some answers.”

“What if they’re not the answers you’re looking for? What if you find a coffin?”

“Then I’ll deal with it. At least I’ll know. If it’s hers—at least she’ll be where she belongs. And I can get rid of all those goddamn hats.”

Emma sighed again and looked around the cemetery, probably hoping no one was watching her not do her job. Had this been any other town, she probably would have arrested him. But it was Storybrooke, and the things buried in Storybrooke were rarely “nothing.” Plus, she probably knew she’d only delay him for a time anyway. He would find a way to finish what he’d started.

She didn’t have to hold on much longer anyway. A few shovels full of dirt later, and Jefferson hit something. The metal thunked loudly and her attention broke off. She looked down into the hole where he was now standing as rigid and tense and stone.

“What’d you find?” she asked after a moment, though she hesitated to voice what they’d heard. The shovel had undoubtedly hit hollow wood.

“I don’t know,” he told her. He dropped the shovel to his side and wiped his forehead on his rolled up sleeve before kneeling in the dirt to clear off whatever he’d found.

He was relieved to see that it wasn’t the surface of a coffin. He’d hit a box. A small one, no bigger than the jewelry box he'd made for Alice many years before. He was able to wipe the dirt off and lifted it out.

“What is it?” she asked again, trying to get a good look from where she stood above him.

“I think you know what this is,” he replied.

He held the box up and she reached down to take it from him. She set it aside on the grass and held out her hand to pull him out of the sloppy hole. He was at her side a moment later, scrambling for the box with trembling fingers. But once he had it back in his hands, he just stood. He stared at it and didn’t move.

“Regina has a lot of boxes like this,” Emma noted.

“Indeed she does.”

“Why would Regina have it? Why would she bury it and not—rub it in your face like you said?”

“Regina isn’t the only person with that power.”

“Don’t they usually—glow?”

“There’s dirt caked into the windows.”

She looked down at the box expectantly, but his fingers were still shaking. He took a deep breath, fearing whatever he was going to see when he lifted the lid. The boxes usually had windows, and he wasn’t entirely sure that it was dirt. Maybe there was nothing glowing inside at all. maybe there was a pile of ash. Evidence of a life snuffed out too soon. But he had to do it. He had to know for sure.

So he lifted the lid and looked down at the glowing red heart. It pulsed with light and he could feel something deep inside that told him it was hers. He could feel it in his hands. Alice’s life and warmth right there in front of him again. All that Storybrooke had of her was contained inside that box. He’d asked the cup to show him his wife, and it had. It led him to her heart. He looked back up at Emma, who was looking down at the glowing heart with eyes pinched in concern.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. He shook his head.

“Whatever for?”

“Regina—or someone—Cora maybe—took your wife’s heart. That can’t be easy to deal with.” He felt a giggle bubble out of him as the light of Alice’s heart flickered on Emma’s face.

“But don’t you know what this means?” he asked her. “The heart is still beating, Sherriff. It means she’s alive.”


	20. Chapter 20

When Alice didn’t return to Wonderland the next day, Jefferson became worried. Sometimes her mother would find a way to restrict her access to her looking-glass. Alice would disappear for a day or two but always returned again. It was her somber mood that had him on edge and the fact that Wonderland hadn’t ceased to rain. When she didn’t show up the next day, or the day after that, he knew something was dreadfully wrong.  
  
Alice gave Jefferson her, cloak and it was still possible he could find her before her mother forced her into anything too drastic or permanent. When he stepped through the portal again, right into the space between the wall and the hedges, the house was dark. He paced in that space for a long time, but Alice never appeared, and her window never lit up. He fell asleep leaning against the wall and stayed there until morning when a frightened gardener woke him.  
  
“The family has gone to the city,” the gardener told him once he’d introduced himself. As the cousin of the Duke. “For Miss Liddel’s wedding.”  
  
His heart shattered at the words. He was so sure he could save her from that life. Or that she would have loved him enough to come to him if it ever happened. Even if there was nothing either of them could do, she should have told him. Unless she truly loved the man she was to wed. Perhaps he’d stolen her heart, and she was just too kind to tell Jefferson the truth.  
  
He thought of the last time they were in Wonderland together. He knew that she loved him. She hadn’t told him because she thought she was protecting him. Because she had no hope that they’d ever find a way to be together. Because, after all this time, he never got around to asking her to try.  
  
He couldn’t guarantee that a note would reach Alice before the wedding, so he quickly fled back through his portal. He only knew of one person who might be able to help. He hadn’t wanted to, from the very start, he’d never wanted to ask the Dark One. But now it looked as if he had no other choice. He was willing to pay whatever price the beast asked of him. He told Alice he’d do anything for her, and now it was going to be tested.  
  
The Dark One did not seem the least bit surprised to see him that afternoon when he arrived with his hat in tow. He was led directly into the parlor while the creature chattered on about expecting Jefferson’s arrival. They’d worked together before and almost developed a sort of friendship. Rumpelstiltskin was a frequent customer, and Jefferson could always rely on him to come through with his payments. Sometimes just letting him take however much he felt like, rather than a set payment. But Jefferson had never asked for anything selfishly before. They’d only done business and had never spoken beyond trades and sales. He never wanted to be a customer. But desperation was a strong motivator. And desperation is what kept the Dark One in business.  
  
“I just need your help,” he said to get Rumpelstiltskin to stop talking. “I’ll pay whatever price. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Help me get her here.” The creature was unnervingly joyous about this proposition. He giggled in a way that Jefferson knew only meant trouble.  
  
“But the question isn’t whether or not you’re willing to pay the price—but that Alice is,” he replied. Jefferson gritted his teeth. He hadn’t told anyone her name. He’d never spoken of her outside of Wonderland at all until now. It shouldn’t surprise him that Rumpelstiltskin already knew precisely what he wanted.  
  
“Then I’ll pay the price—so that she can decide.”  
  
“But you don’t have much of anything that I want.” Jefferson usually found the Dark One tolerable. Usually.  
  
“What is it exactly that you want?” The creature smiled and pulled up the ruffled sleeves of his shirt. He walked to a tall cabinet on the far side of the room.  
  
“From you, I want a favor. I decide when and where and how. And you do it without question and without payment.” Jefferson reluctantly agreed.  
  
“We have a deal.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not finished yet. From her, I want—a mirror. To look upon my pretty face.”  
  
Jefferson swallowed against the lump in his throat. Rumpel wanted Alice’s looking-glass so he could get into Wonderland without Jefferson’s help. He wasn’t sure if Alice would be willing to give that up for him. But if he could get her to come to the Enchanted Forest, he could show her every world he had at his fingertips. She’d never need her looking-glass again. He just had to trust that she loved him as much as he loved her.  
  
“And if she doesn’t accept her end of the deal?” Jefferson questioned as the Dark One rummaged through the strange bottles in his cupboard.  
  
“Well then, a hat will do. To put upon my pretty head,” he decided. Jefferson bit his lip. He knew it was a potential price when he walked through the door. It was a risky deal. If Alice didn’t accept—then he’d lose everything he had. He’d lose his work, his life. He’d lose Alice. “Do you love her?” the Dark One inquired, sensing Jefferson’s hesitation.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Is it—true love?”  
  
“I don’t—I don’t know.”  
  
“You’re not certain that she loves you back.”  
  
“She does. I know that she does.”  
  
“Then what do you have to lose?”  
  
Everything. If Alice didn’t accept the deal, for whatever reason, they’d never be able to find each other again.  
  
But he thought of her with her golden hair and her sly smile. He thought of the day they spent under the mushrooms in the rain when he’d finally been able to prove to her, and himself, that it wasn’t just lust. He loved her truly and deeply. He told her he’d do anything for her, and he intended to keep that promise. He had to be willing to lose everything too. So he stepped forward, lifted his hat off of his head, and bowed to the Dark One.  
  
“We have a deal,” he said.  
  
The creature giggled again, high pitched and more menacing than giddy. He pulled a vial out of his cabinet and sauntered over to a tall frame hidden beneath a sheet. As if he’d already set it out just for Jefferson. He ripped the sheet away to expose the mirror. It was just an average looking-glass. Nothing particularly magical. At least not the way Alice’s looking-glass was. Jefferson might not be a regular magic user, but he was familiar enough to know when it was around. Whatever magic Rumplestiltskin held in the shining glass bottle—that was what would get him to Alice.  
  
“You know how to find her?” Jefferson asked, stepping forward. The creature’s strange eyes found his through the reflection in the mirror. He uncorked the bottle, which appeared to be almost empty.  
  
“You’re in luck, deary,” he said as he lifted the bottle and shook up the single drop of liquid inside. “I have just enough to get you what you want. If she’ll have you that is.” Jefferson clenched his teeth and went to his side. Rumpelstiltskin trusted that he would give him what he wanted. So he smiled as he dipped the bottle over the mirror.  
  
The single drop of shimmering liquid ran down the frame. For a moment, nothing happened, but Jefferson knew the Dark One’s magic never failed. And sure enough, the mirror surface shimmered like water. Their images melted away to the picture of a bedroom. As if they were viewing it from a window.  
  
Jefferson took a step forward and leaned in close to look. He could see a large bed with tall posts and drapes, and beyond that, he could make out the form of a woman with black hair and a rigid posture. She moved to reach for something he couldn’t see.  
  
“You need to smile, darling,” Helen was saying, her voice drifted through the looking-glass. “Your husband will want you to smile.”  
  
“He’s not my husband,” Alice’s voice said from where she was hidden behind the bed’s drapes.  
  
“He will be. Tonight.” Helen began to comb her daughter’s long hair so that Jefferson could see it twisting through her fingers. “You should be grateful we managed to find you a husband at all at your age. I know he’s a bit older than you wanted. But that’s what happens when you speak madness. He’s wealthy, a viscount, but his children are all grown. You’re lucky he won’t expect any from you.”  
  
Alice started to speak, but her voice quickly cut off. She moved forward, and her face appeared in the mirror on the other side of the room. Her dark eyes met Jefferson’s, and she stood so sharply, and the stool she was sitting on knocked onto the floor.  
  
“Please, Mother!” Alice said, her voice going frantic and high-pitched. “Please allow me a moment of peace.” The woman huffed and set down the jeweled comb.  
  
“I need to check on arrangements anyway. I’ll be back in a few minutes to finish your hair. I can’t have you looking like some sort of feral child on your wedding day.”  
  
“Yes, Mother.”  
  
The woman left the room, and Alice was on the move the moment the door clicked shut. She gripped the white gown in her hands and rushed around the bed to the looking-glass.  
  
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a panicked and hushed tone. Jefferson gripped the frame and looked at her face, so relieved to see her again, to know he hadn’t lost her yet.  
  
“I’m here to set you free,” he explained. “When you didn’t come back—I knew something was wrong.”  
  
“I couldn’t come back. I couldn’t face you after what she did. She found all my savings. Every penny. She accepted a proposal I didn't want. I didn’t know what else to do.”  
  
“You might want to hurry this along,” Rumpelstiltskin said from Jefferson’s side. Alice turned her eyes on him but didn’t seem the least bit startled by his appearance. After everything she’d seen in Wonderland, the Dark One was positively normal. “We don’t know how much longer the enchantment will last.” Jefferson turned back to the woman in the mirror with her sparkling white gown that was meant for someone else.  
  
“I can get you through. To my world,” he told her. “Just this once. If that’s what you really want. If you don’t want to get married. You can come here—and be with me.” She looked panicked as she took in his words.  
  
“It’s that easy?” she questioned. He shook his head.  
  
“It never is,” he explained. “I made a deal. If you come through—you have to give him,” he motioned toward Rumpelstiltskin, “your looking-glass.”  
  
“And you won’t be able to return if you change your mind,” The Dark One informed her. “Ever.” She was breathing hard, and her red lips were pinched. But she turned her eyes on Jefferson.  
  
“You really want me—there—with you? Forever?” she asked him. He held the mirror tighter. He wanted more than anything to touch her, but he couldn’t break the enchantment until she was ready.  
  
“Of course I do,” he told her. “I would do anything for you. I told you that.” Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.  
  
“I know nothing about your land,” she admitted.  
  
“I can show you. Everything. I can teach you how to fly.”  
  
“How much longer do we have before this portal closes?”  
  
“I’d give it a few more minutes,” the Dark One answered as he looked down at his scaly wrist for a watch that wasn’t there.  
  
“That’s all I need,” Alice said.  
  
She pushed away from the mirror and rushed around the room. She pulled a velvet bag from a drawer and began filling it with miscellaneous items. Not clothes or anything she might need for a journey, but unimportant things like necklaces and rings and the glittering comb her mother had left on the table. She hesitated before returning to Jefferson.  
  
“I’ll never get to say goodbye,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow and distant. “My sister—my father—my cats. I’ll never see them again?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he told her. He knew he still had his hat and could take her back to say goodbye if she really wanted. But he didn’t want to remind Rumpelstiltskin that he still had that power.  
  
It was enough for Alice. She took a deep breath, took one last glance at the room, and stepped toward the mirror. The bedroom door opened before she reached it.  
  
“Alice, I was…,” Helen paused in the doorway, and Alice looked back at her. “Alice, what the devil is going on?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Alice said.  
  
“Alice!”  
  
She leaped forward as if to try and stop Alice from climbing through the mirror, but it was too late. Alice jumped through and fell right into Jefferson’s arms. He held her tight as the portal shut and muted the sound of Helen’s frantic voice. He didn’t want to let her go. She felt warm and smelled just as sweet as she did in Wonderland. The joy in his heart was insurmountable. She’d come for him. She’d given up her whole life, not knowing if she’d ever see her family again, for him.  
  
It was easier than expected. He didn’t know what favor the Dark One would ask of him in the future, but all that mattered now was what he had in his arms.  
  
Then he remembered Alice’s part of the deal. He turned to look at Rumpelstiltskin who was running his hands along the frame of the mirror, not caring that either of them was in his parlor.  
  
“The portal,” Jefferson said. “How will you get it now?”  
  
“Oh, I already have it,” he replied. “I’m thinking it will make a lovely gift. Maybe for a—coronation.” Alice looked grim, but she clutched her velvet bag to her chest and looked back up at Jefferson.  
  
“Take me home?” she said.  
  
He nodded, even though he didn’t have a home to take her to. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder anyway and nodded a thanks to the creature he’d never trusted, but was so thankful he’d never crossed. He turned to lead Alice out of the castle, but Rumpelstiltskin stopped them at the door.  
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. Jefferson flinched and paused. “One more thing,” the Dark One said, holding up a finger as he approached the two of them. “You look—like a queen, deary.” Alice glanced at Jefferson before turning back to Rumpel, unsure of whether or not it was meant as a compliment. “What I mean to say is, you won’t make it very far without attracting attention. Bandits, and the like. People become—curious.”  
  
“We can buy her new clothes when we reach town,” Jefferson decided.  
  
“Better yet, you can sell the dress to me, and I’ll give you another in return.” Jefferson hated the gown. It was beautiful, and she looked like royalty, but it was never meant for him. And when she wore white, he wanted it to be for him. It also wasn’t his decision to make. But Alice nodded.  
  
“I would be grateful,” she said.  
  
“No need to thank me,” Rumpel replied.  
  
He lifted his hands and Alice was engulfed in a cloud of scarlet smoke. Jefferson was startled for a moment until she reappeared, dressed in clothes more befitting of the Enchanted Forest, though not nearly as magnificent. Her dress was white with light blue pinstripes. It would match her embroidered blue cloak, without drawing attention to the fact that she wasn’t from this land. The only problem was that she looked like a peasant and not the extravagant lady he thought her to be. Certainly not the daughter of a Baron.  
  
“So you thought a peasant was more flattering than a queen?” Jefferson asked, pulling Alice to his side again. Though he was thankful, there was no petticoat blocking his way. And she didn’t seem to be squeezed up as tightly.  
  
“No one bats an eye at a peasant girl. The last thing you want—is for someone to look too closely,” Rumpel remarked. Jefferson didn’t know why the Dark One cared, but he decided not to take it lightly. He’d made enemies in his life, and he didn’t want anyone to take the one good choice he’d ever made.  
  
“It’s fine, Jefferson. I promise,” she told him, putting her hand on his chest to draw his attention back to her. “I’m glad to be rid of it.” He smiled down at her, happy to hear her say it. He could buy her a new gown. He’d buy her all the dresses and jewels she wanted.  
  
“Then I believe our business is done here,” he told the Dark One, and he hurried to pull Alice back out into the hall.  
  
He didn’t speak until they’d reached the road that would lead them through the woods. He wanted to get as far away from the Dark One as possible, and Alice seemed preoccupied as her eyes searched every tree and startled at the sound of every bird.  
  
“I don’t have a home, Alice,” he admitted to her once they were far enough away. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.” She smiled and nudged him with her shoulder.  
  
“It’s all right,” she said. “We can build a new nest. Together.” She lifted the velvet bag she’d twisted around her wrist and pulled the drawstring to expose the contents. The sunlight glittered off of jewels and gold.  
  
“Trinkets?” he asked.  
  
“No, silly. Money.” He smiled and pulled her back to his side. “My mother found all my savings from Wonderland. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think there was any other way. I wanted to escape to Wonderland as soon as I could, but—I’ve always been so afraid of making a home there. The Red Queen. I’ve been lucky to stay out of her reach thus far. I don’t think I’d be so lucky if I made it home. But I wasn’t going to go through with it. You know that? Don’t you?”  
  
“There’s no need to worry now, Alice. I just want you to be happy here,” he said into her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I hope this land is everything you’ve ever wished for. If it isn’t, and you don’t like it here, I’ll find a way to get you anywhere you want to go. We’ll travel to every world I have access to. You can pick.”  
  
She shook her head and looked down at her feet. The white silk slippers she wore with her wedding dress had been traded out for brown boots. She seemed so right there. Even if she hadn’t changed out of her expensive white gown, she belonged in those woods at his side. And he knew he’d never be able to give her the kind of life she’d left behind, but he hoped their new one would make her happy.  
  
“Just Jefferson, you silly man,” she said, sniffing back tears and smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you—and that life is behind me—then I already have everything I want. Everything I’ve ever wished for.”  
  
He believed her, but even if she was happy with just him and whatever meager things he could provide for her, he vowed to try harder. To save his money instead of spending it on frivolous things. To put it toward a large estate in the forest where she could be free and still have all the wealth and comfort she deserved. She would have more than that too. She’d have love and the freedom to be whoever she wanted. She’d never ask for anything else, but that wouldn’t stop him from making it his goal.


	21. Chapter 21

Jefferson had Alice’s heart, but he wasn’t sure what he should do with it. Regina and Gold were the only people in Storybrooke who could answer questions about the heart, as far as he knew. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask either of them. He asked Emma to keep it secret until he knew for sure how to deal with it. Then he packed it up safely in his car and went to get Grace.

She was excited to see him when he pulled up out front of her friend’s house. She rushed over to him, eager to hug him like they did every afternoon. But she caught sight of all the dirt and sweat on his clothes and stopped short on the sidewalk.

“What happened, Papa?” she asked. His smile fell. He didn’t even think of how he must look after what he’d been doing all day.

“Just doing some work out in the yard,” he explained as he opened the passenger door so she could climb in. “I didn’t want you to be alone all day.”

“Are you changing the roses?” she asked, getting settled in her seat. He stood with the door still open.

“What?”

“The roses in the yard. They used to be red.”

He hated the roses in the backyard. They’d been there since the first day of the curse. An apparent gift from Regina, meant to mock him and cause more pain. He never spent any time at all in the yard when Grace was gone. And now he only set foot out there when she wanted to have tea parties in the garden. He never cared for the roses. And come to think of it; he never had to. But he couldn’t admit that he’d lied. Not yet. So he just smiled and nodded.

“Right. The roses,” he agreed. Then he shut the door and came around the front of the car. She didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed lost in thought.

“I could have helped you,” she suggested, once he’d climbed in beside her. He sent her another smile and shook his head.

“There was no need. It’s dirty work, and you had homework,” he explained.

She watched him as he got the car started. Every once in a while he would ask her to go home with a friend, but he’d always spend the ride back home enthusiastically listening to all her stories about her day. Now he was silent, lost in his own head. There were bandages wrapped around his fingers and dirt smudged and streaked on his face. People usually didn’t do yard work in their regular clothes. It was odd that he hadn’t cleaned up before coming to get her.

The scarf around his neck had come loose so that she could see the pink scars every time he turned. He was usually so careful about it. It never came undone for very long unless he was too distracted to notice.

“Papa?” she asked as the car reached the hill that would take them home.

“Yes?” he replied. His attention seemed to refocus on the present but was quickly lost again.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell her about the heart. Now that he knew for sure Alice was still alive, how could he possibly tell Grace? They’d spent their lives without her, building a home, moving on, trying to live without her. If Grace ever mourned the mother she never knew, she’d already done it. She believed she’d never know her and was just grateful to know her name. How would she react if Jefferson told her there was a chance he’d left her mother behind? That she’d lived all that time without them?

There was something to hope for now. A beating, pulsing, glowing heart. Somewhere, Wonderland perhaps, Alice still lived. He would do whatever he could to bring her home to Grace. Grace may have already given up hope of having a mother, but now she had a chance. Alice had a chance to meet the daughter she’d never even got to hold. They could be a family again. And he was caught somewhere between elated and afraid. He didn’t know what price he’d have to pay to bring Alice home. How heartbroken would Grace be if he told her Alice was alive and he’d abandoned her to Wonderland? What if he couldn’t get her home again?

“The scars on your neck,” Grace said after he lost himself in his own thoughts again. “You never told me what happened to you.” He swallowed through the lump in his throat. That was a story he never wanted to tell. Even when he planned to tell her about Alice, he never intended to tell her about his own time trapped in Wonderland.

“It’s nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You didn’t have them before. When we lived in the forest.”

“It happened when we were apart. When I was in Wonderland.”

“When you went to work for the Queen?” She remembered so much now. He didn’t know what to say to distract her. He’d already darkened her dreams with images of her mother’s bloody cloak. He couldn’t make it worse.

“It’s not a—nice story, Grace.”

“I didn’t think so. But I still want to know.”

He gripped the steering wheel with his blistered fingers. He would have to tell her the truth. He’d spent so much time trying to keep his past hidden from her, but now he had to find a way to tell her Alice was alive. He had to explain that he couldn’t have known. But he’d have to tell her why he thought she was dead. He’d have to tell her how he came to suspect that she wasn’t.

“Let me get dinner going and clean up. Then we’ll talk about it, okay? How does pizza sound?” She lit up, just like he knew she would. Her dark eyes went wide, and she grinned. Pizza was the one food from this land they’d miss the most if they ever got to go home.

“I love pizza,” she said dramatically. He laughed.

“I know you do.” And that was precisely why he’d suggested it.

She was distracted now. She forgot all about the scars by the time they got home. He parked out front, and she ran into the house to put her things away and change out of her uniform. He went to his room to shower and find clean clothes while they waited for the pizza to arrive. By the time they were both seated at the dining room table, he had hoped she’d long forgotten.

She hadn’t.

“The scars, Papa?” she gently reminded him. He looked up at her and sighed. He was always tired now, and he was having a harder time masking his feelings behind silly jokes and smiles. The exhaustion seemed to weigh heavy on his features. He set his pizza down on a plate and crossed his arms over the table.

“That job—years ago,” he said, his voice low and rough again. “The Queen—Regina—sent me back to Wonderland to obtain something. Something the Queen of Hearts stole from her. She was desperate to get it back, and she did everything she could to get me to comply. She—got into my head. Made me believe I wouldn’t be able to provide for you if I didn’t help her get it.”

“What was it?” Grace asked, her eyes full of wonder.

“Her father.” Grace shook her head, now confused. “The hat—had rules. If someone went through, the same amount of people had to come back. Regina and I went in. She and her father went out.”

“She left you there?”

“I never would have gone if I’d known she was after a person. I didn’t want to go at all, but she promised—that I’d be able to care for you. We’d never need anything ever again. My specialty was magical artifacts. It comes with being a portal jumper. You can feel magic. I thought that’s what she was after. But she only needed me to get in. And she needed a body to trade. I was stupid.”

“And what happened when you were trapped there?” He ran his hands over his face and then crossed his arms again.

“The Queen of Hearts. I’d stolen from her before. It was what—made us lose your mother. I was told not to return. And then I’d come back and stolen from her again.” He reached up to unwrap the scarf from around his neck. He let it drop into his lap, knowing that she was staring at the marks and starting to piece things together. “Off with his head,” he said.

She was silent for a long moment, and he was afraid the story would give her nightmares. She was too young and innocent to be exposed to something so awful. Alice had been even younger the first time the Red Queen threatened to take her head, and it had haunted her all her life. Grace’s eyes looked sad and scared all at once. Then she shook her head.

“But how are you still alive?” she asked. He touched the scars. He felt exposed and vulnerable without the scarf to cover them. Grace’s eyes were on the darkness of his past now, and he didn’t know how to shield her without lying to her.

“I don’t know how it works,” he admitted. “I thought I was going to die. If I had known—if I knew you could survive—I never would have left her there.”

Then her eyebrows furrowed. She was confused again. Too young to have to deal with thoughts like these. But he tried to think of what Alice would do in this situation. She would have wanted him to be honest. He wanted to protect Grace for as long as he could, and keep the beating heart a secret until he had more proof or could bring Alice home. But Grace deserved to feel the same hope that was now engulfing his heart, even if it brought despair along with it.

Alice never would have wanted him to lie to their daughter, protect her, but not lie. And he could picture the exact face she’d make if she ever found out he had. He wouldn’t mind if Alice was angry at him for that choice. It was one of many choices she would be angry about. He didn’t care as long as she could come home.

“The Queen of Hearts,” he explained, “wanted your mother’s head. And she got it. I watched it happen. I spent—all this time—believing it meant she was dead. And when it happened to me—my only focus then was to get back to you. I didn’t think about what it meant until I’d completed that goal. We always wanted to put you first.”

“You think—that she’s….” She didn’t finish her sentence, but he nodded to answer anyway.

“She is, Grace.”

“How do you know?”

“The Queen of Hearts got her name for a reason. She’s from our world. She collected them. It’s magic—an enchantment. She can remove the heart without killing the person. But it makes them cold. Unable to love. And whoever has the heart—has control over that person. They can make them do whatever they want. I wasn’t doing yard work today, Grace. I don’t know what you meant about changing the roses. I was digging. I found it. Her heart.”

“But how do you know she’s still alive?”

“Because the heart was beating. Alice—your mother—she’s alive. I can feel it. And I’ll do whatever I can to bring her home to you.”

Grace turned her eyes to the scars on her father’s neck, her own heart suddenly filled with dread.


	22. Chapter 22

There was no doubt in Jefferson’s mind that Alice belonged in the Enchanted Forest. They walked along the road for a long time before coming to the nearest village. They found an inn to rent for the night, and once they’d checked in and safely hidden her belongings, he took her hand and led her out onto the street to show her the town.

She smiled the whole way. Alice had never explored anything beyond her own apple orchard and the limited section of Wonderland. Now she had a new land to explore, and he laughed along with her as she twirled in the street and excitedly examined everything they came across.

When it grew cold, he wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and took her hand again. He led her to a place just outside of town, where fireflies came to life and flickered between trees. She stood in awe for a long time before turning back to him.

“What magic is this?” she asked. He smiled.

“Magic? It’s not magic. They’re fireflies. Do you not have fireflies where you’re from?”

“I don’t believe so. What’s a firefly?”

“They’re just bugs that create light with their bodies. It’s how they signal to their mates.” She spun back around to watch them flicker between trees.

“So it is magic.” He laughed again and shook his head.

“Not magic, Just Alice. Just fireflies.” She looked back at him, still grinning, shimmering in nothing but the light of fireflies and the moon.

“It looks like magic to me.”

“If you believe it’s magic, then it’s magic.”

“Now you’re just giving me what I want.”

“I told you I always would.” She stepped away from him, her boots cracking twigs and stems. She’d grown up in a manicured apple orchard and had never seen a forest like this. Wild and free like she was now.

“I can take you back,” he told her. “If you really wanted.” She turned to face him again.

“Your hat? But you’d have to come back. The portal can’t stay open forever, and you wouldn’t be able to return on your own.” He shrugged.

“I’d do whatever I had to.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t go back. I don’t want that life.”

“You’d be able to say goodbye. You could do it properly.” She sighed and looked back at the dancing fireflies.

“Maybe in time,” she decided. “For now I’m just happy to be here with you under all these magical bugs.” He smiled and rested his head on a nearby tree. She hummed a song and twirled between the trunks.

“Alice?”

“Yes?”

“I know you only just got here, and you have so much more to see. You don’t know if you’ll even be happy here, and you just barely escaped a forced betrothal. But would you—ever consider it?” She stopped spinning, making her white and blue dress swish to a halt around her legs.

“Consider what?” she questioned.

“Allowing me the honor of being your husband.”

“You want to marry me?” She cocked her head to the side as if she didn’t understand.

“I love you, Alice. Of course I want to marry you. I was only afraid of asking because I didn’t know how to get you here and I didn’t know if you’d want to be trapped with me forever. You’ll be free here. No matter what choices you make or when you make them. But I want to build my own nest. And I want to build it with you.”

“My mother said that men don’t know how to love. That once you give them your body, they no longer have any need of you.” He shook his head. He’d be offended if it had come from anyone other than her mother. They’d already shared their bodies, and he was still filled to the brim with love.

“That’s a sad way to think about love. She’s wrong. I didn’t want your body. I mean—I do, but—it’s your heart I want. To be with you. Always. Even if you don’t want to marry me.”

“So you want to build a nest,” she said, twirling her dress and moving closer.

“A big, pretty nest,” he admitted.

“Do you want to put eggs in that nest?” He laughed.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Someday.” She stopped twirling just out of his reach, and her eyes searched his.

“You love me,” she stated. “Me me? Just Alice?”

“I do. I don’t have a name to give you but—I owe Rumpelstiltskin a favor. In exchange for getting you here. That’s the price I had to pay. And that can be—a very dangerous thing, Alice. I don’t know what he wants or when he’ll come to collect. Only that I was willing to do anything to set you free. We can wait. So that you have time to make a choice. There’s no obligation. Just know that I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

She smiled and moved closer, but she looked down at his feet and shook her head. His heart was pounding. Despite what he said about just wanting her to be happy, he dreaded the thought of her saying no.

“You silly man, Just Jefferson,” she said as she put her hand on his chest and he gripped his fingers in her cloak, terrified and barely breathing. “I didn’t come here to be free. I didn’t come because you offered me a place to fly. I came for you. Just for you. This place is new and exciting, but it terrifies me. I wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t for you. The thought of being married to anyone other than you—I couldn’t bear it. I want to build a nest with you and perhaps—someday we might have a few eggs. But I would be the one honored to be your wife.”

He smiled and pulled her in closer. She rested her head against his chest, and he held her close. He would still wait a month or two just in case the magic of Wonderland faded, or she changed her mind. But for a moment, he was happy that she was there, and she was his, and he didn’t have to say goodbye.

They walked back to the inn hand-in-hand and spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms and bodies. He whispered that question a dozen more times into her hair. She would shift in her sleep and wrap her arm around him. Then she’d mumble, “Yes, yes,” and go back to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Jefferson didn’t want to let Grace go. After they finished dinner, they chose a movie to watch. She fell asleep on the couch, and he didn’t bother to carry her to bed. She had school in the morning, but she’d grown so accustomed to going to bed on time that she hadn’t lasted very long. He didn’t want to part with her just yet. His heart was full of regret and guilt. He was afraid if he left her now, he might never see her again.

He fell asleep on the couch beside her and dreamt that white roses had wrapped around his body. He couldn’t move as the thorny vines constricted him like wiggling snakes. The thorns dug into his skin, pricking holes and leaving splotches of blood in the snow. The frozen dirt beneath smothered him as he was dragged into the earth. He tried to scream as he was pulled under, but the mud filled his throat and choked him. The vines consumed him. He was left in the dark with nothing but the light of his own beating heart.

He woke with a start in the living room. Grace was still sleeping peacefully at his side. She’d have to wake up in a few hours to get ready for school. So he finally moved off of the couch, lifted her in his arms, and carried her up the stairs to her room. She didn’t wake up. She only hummed in her sleep and pulled a stuffed rabbit to her chest when he laid her down. He pressed a kiss to her head and left the room with the door cracked.

Sleep was calling to him, but he dreaded it now. When Grace was gone, he couldn’t sleep without seeing her begging him to take her home. But now he had her again, and it was Alice who wouldn’t leave him alone. Sometimes he dreamt of her dead and decaying in Wonderland. But sometimes the dreams were pleasant and warm. He’d find her lying beside him beneath a mushroom, lost in bliss. Sometimes they would be back in their cottage in the Enchanted Forest, and she’d have Grace tucked into a sling at her front, cradling her daughter as she helped with household chores. It didn’t matter if the dreams were frightening or pleasant, he always woke up afraid, suffering, and more exhausted than he’d been to start with.

He avoided sleep as much as he could now. The only thing about the dreams that remained constant was his knowledge. That Alice was gone. And he dreaded having to explain to her why he’d left her alone.

He crept to his room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pinched his tired eyes between his fingers and leaned into his hands. Sleep was just out of his reach, pulling him in like thorns on his skin and dirt in his throat. His eyes shot back open. He just wanted to dream of nothing and be free of guilt and pain for one night. Alice was haunting him, and now he finally understood why. He’d done what she asked and protected Grace. He had her back. But he still had one more task to complete. Alice was alive, calling to him across all the realms that separated them. He hated himself for never knowing until now, and he’d never rest until she was beside him again.

Mr. Gold brought Alice through once before. He used magic to turn a mirror into her looking-glass, but Gold said he couldn’t help anymore. Jefferson already had everything he needed to find the answers he sought. He just needed to puzzle it out. The cloak and the hat had been useless. But not the cup. It still had enough magic left in it; enough of the right kind of magic. It might be able to turn a useless hat into something more.

He returned to the bottom floor to shut off all the lights and lock the doors. Then he stepped into the backyard onto the cold green grass. The rose bushes lined the yard beneath the brick wall just like the hedges in Alice’s childhood home. It was a big, wide yard where Grace could play freely for hours, and he could watch her without constricting her. Sometimes she liked to go outside and play tea party in the garden among the roses.

But Jefferson hadn’t planted them. He never cared for him. He’d woken up the morning after Regina’s curse to find them there. They bloomed every spring regardless of what he did or didn’t do to them. He could never bring himself to care for them. They reminded him too much of what took Alice away from him. And by all accounts, given what he did know of roses, they should have been dead. If not unkempt and riddled with insects. Now he stood in the grass, taking in the shape and color of every neat blossom.

Grace thought he was making the roses white. They were red all the years he’d been trapped there, but now the color was fading. Not into a soft pink, but a muddy color like fading blood on a white cloth. Some of the roses had already turned solid and white as if they’d been bleached by the sun. He walked across the yard to the closest bush. Some petals were that faded color, some were as white as the moon. As white as the roses he’d ripped out of Alice’s grave. The petals were soft and smooth and free from insect bites. As if he’d spent all his days tending to them.

It was magic, he realized. Just like the roses on her grave. No one tended to them, and maybe no one put the roses there. Whoever buried Alice’s heart left no trace behind. Perhaps it came over with the curse because it was already in the Enchanted Forest. Regina didn’t keep it with her collection, because Regina never had it. Magic caused the roses to grow above Alice’s beating heart. Magic was turning them white. It was a message.

He remained in the garden until the sun came up and all the color seemed to drain from the blossoms, leaving each and every one of them an icy pale shade in the desaturated morning light. As if the sky had leached the color from the roses and used it to paint the clouds over Storybrooke.

He took one last look before turning back to the house to get Grace ready for school. He only returned when she was gone. This time with the blue hat perched on his head and a tea tray in his arms. He set it down on Grace’s small tea party table. The silver teapot balanced on the dish with the painted cup and the box that contained Alice’s heart.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing or if it would even work, but he had to try. He couldn’t sit still and wait for something to happen. For the first time in years, the glimmer of hope was burning his chest like a flowering seed. He took the hat off and set it in the center of the small table. Then he poured a cup of tea and carefully placed it inside the hat. The old one required magic. And maybe this one needed a specific kind of magic.

He wasn’t sure if it would work, and he felt foolish just to try, but the cloak had taken him to her once, and the cup had guided him to her heart. He took a deep breath and lifted the lid to expose the glowing, pulsing heart.

“Take me back,” he said. “Take me to Wonderland.”

Magic zipped through the air like a crackle of electricity. There was a spark, shimmering around him. It was a magic only gifted to portal jumpers, giants with their beans, and mermaids. And he laughed when he felt that old familiar jolt again.

Finally, the hat began to tremble. Magic swirled around it in puffs of blue smoke, until it was spinning and opening itself wide enough for him to jump inside. He stood on the edges of the portal, and for the first day since he lost Alice, he was looking forward to returning to Wonderland.


	24. Chapter 24

The early days of Jefferson’s marriage had been blissful. He felt like an entirely different man from the one who’d gambled all his family money and took to thievery to get what he wanted. He wondered if his parents would be happy to see him now. As a man with a life and a purpose beyond his own selfish desires. He’d been a reckless, self-centered youth, and now he was ready to put that all behind him. He wanted to be a more honest, giving person now that he had Alice at his side.

She was curious about her new world. Always eager to explore and learn things. He felt more joy in showing her around her new home than he did from exploring new worlds. Their trades and jobs came fewer and farther in between since they spent more time settling in their new home and planning a future together.

The cottage wasn’t what Jefferson wanted for her. He pictured her in a large estate like the one Rumpelstiltskin lived in. He wanted her to have at least one jewel for each of her fingers. To never have to work hard for the few things they could manage. But Alice never complained about going from a life of luxury as a baron’s daughter to a life of hardship as a thief’s wife. She took quickly to learning about how to live in the Enchanted Forest. And no matter how sour he felt after an unsuccessful job, he’d always end the night with her warm body in his arms. He knew everything would turn out alright as long as they had each other.

But the threat of his debt to Rumpelstiltskin weighed heavy on his heart.

It was warm and stuffy in the cottage, and Alice had pushed open the bedroom window before making love to him in the moonlight. She’d fallen asleep on his chest, and he reluctantly moved her aside when he sensed the presence of magic outside in the garden. They weren’t alone anymore.

Just as he expected, Rumpelstiltskin was waiting for him in the yard, just along the line that divided the garden from the forest. The creature’s request seemed simple enough, but Jefferson knew they were rarely as simple as they appeared. Rumpel wanted nothing more than a single red rose from the Queen’s garden in Wonderland. And Jefferson knew he had no choice but to accept. It would have been an easy target, perhaps, when the Red Queen still ruled. Cruel and vindictive as she was, she was nothing compared to Wonderland’s new queen. The Queen of Hearts kept her maze more guarded than her predecessor. And she seemed to have an affinity for collecting the hearts of her terrified subjects.

Jefferson accepted the job without question, though it created a nervous ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He returned to the cottage to prepare for the trip and tell Alice what he had to do. But she was already awake when he reentered the room. Her arms were crossed over the window ledge above the bed. She was resting her head on her arm, and her golden hair hung down her back, almost silver in the moonlight. She’d obviously heard everything.

“You think it will be dangerous?” she questioned before he could utter a word. She kept her eyes on the forest outside.

The night was alive with the sound of crickets, frogs, and distant wolves. The moon was full and bright and made the garden appear magical and enchanting. Though Jefferson knew there was no magic there now that the Dark One had disappeared. He sat down beside her and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder.

“You’ve angered a Wonderland Queen before, Alice. You know how they punish their subjects,” he remarked.

“The Red Queen wanted to take my head because I helped a gardener cover an accident. And they say the Queen of Hearts is far more ruthless. I can’t begin to imagine what she’ll do to us if we’re caught taking from her.”

“We? I made the deal, Alice. Not you.”

“Don’t be silly. You made the deal for me. I wouldn’t let you go back there on your own. No one knows Wonderland better than me.”

“I spent a lot of time in Wonderland before I met you.”

“That was before the Queen of Hearts. The Red Queen gained her power through decades of scheming. The Queen of Hearts took over an entire kingdom seemingly overnight. You’ve heard what the people are saying about her. You know what she can do.”

He kissed her shoulder again, and her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. It felt like they’d known each other forever, though it couldn’t have been much in the actual span of their lives. Perhaps Wonderland was really at fault for how quickly they had fallen, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. If the Dark One wanted a rose in exchange for the bliss he felt now, he would get it. He just knew, without a doubt, that the Queen would find out. And Wonderland would become a much more dangerous place for them.

Alice’s thoughts seemed to be headed in the same direction.

“Can you make a deal with me too?” she asked as he ran his fingers down her back in comfort. She stretched her arms out of the window, her ring catching on the moonlight. He never told her that he’d had it crafted from the silver buttons of his most expensive vest. He remembered what they’d promised each other the day he slid it onto her finger. They would never go anywhere without the other.

“Anything,” he told her, even though he knew where her thoughts had traveled.

“This is the end,” she said. “The last trip into Wonderland. The last shady deal. From now on, we find more honest work.”

“You really want that?” She shook her head slowly.

“I used to love this life. Traveling to different lands. Exploring new worlds. But Wonderland has grown darker. Every time we set foot in that place—I fear we’ll never make it back out. We’ve made so many enemies in our lives. Hurt so many people. Can you imagine? If we were to have a child now? How could we possibly live this life with a child?”

He wasn’t sure about that. He’d never been particularly skilled at anything else. He knew how to make hats, but he’d despised that job all his life. The only other thing he’d been good at was making shady deals, picking pockets, and stealing from worlds where consequences were easier to avoid. He didn’t even know where to look for honest work, let alone something that would pay well enough for the life he wanted her to have.

“We will hurt for money,” he reminded her. “Even more than we are now. And we’re barely scraping by.”

“Money doesn’t matter as long as we have each other,” she said. But it mattered to him, and that was what scared him most. “We have a cottage. We can find work. The forest provides plenty of mushrooms. We could sell them at the market. We can find a way to have a family without making enemies or risking our lives.” She was right, though. They’d never spoken about children beyond a few passing comments about nests and eggs. But they’d never been careful either. A child would come sooner or later, whether they planned for it or not.

“You want to have a child?” he asked. “To hatch an egg?” She laughed lightly and opened her eyes again.

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted,” she admitted. “But….”

“Everything but that.” She shut her eyes again.

“Yes.” He took a deep breath and let it go.

“Then we go to Wonderland and finish the deal. And I’ll lock my hat away—so we can find honest work. When we do—we’ll get to work on hatching a few eggs.” She finally turned to him, shifting on the bed so she could hold his face in her hands.

“Is that really what you want or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“Both,” he admitted with a smile. “I want you to have everything you want. And I don’t know how else to make money, but you’re right. Wonderland is too dangerous now. The life we live—we can’t have a child now. We take a risk every time we jump and if we have a family—and we will sooner or later because we haven't exactly tried to prevent it, have we?—we can’t do it anymore.” He reached out to pull her in close.

“But is it what you really want? Or is it just because we haven't tried to stop it?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted a family, of course. But he was afraid he’d never be good enough for one. He’d made more enemies than she knew. She may be able to find honest work, but half the village knew him well enough not to give him a chance. What if he wasn’t a good father? What if he never found work and they spent the rest of their lives trapped in that small cottage in the woods? Hungry and cold and lonely because he just wasn’t good enough?

But Alice was waiting patiently for an answer. He knew she’d be happy without all the luxury he wanted her to have. So long as they had each other, she said. They would find a way. They could be happy. And so would their child. So he smiled back and nodded.

“Yes,” he said.


	25. Chapter 25

Jefferson didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He hadn’t set foot in Wonderland in almost thirty years. When he was younger, Wonderland would change every so often. The most drastic of those changes happened with the Queen of Hearts usurped the Red Queen. Wonderland had shifted to accommodate her. Sometimes it did so for seemingly no reason at all. Roads would change from one side of the maze to the other. The sky would be a different color than the day before, or the location of mushroom patches or homes and burrows would change.

He was never there to see it happening with his own eyes. It always seemed to occur when he was gone, and none of Wonderland’s residence seemed to notice at all. Alice only remarked on it once or twice when he’d bring it up in his own confusion. She would just smile and say, “Looks much better this way, don’t you think?” and carry on whatever task they’d set out for. She never got lost, and once he got used to it, he started to wonder if it had ever changed at all.

They spent less and less time in Wonderland after Alice came to live with him in the Enchanted Forest. They did jobs in other lands when they needed the money to fund the building of their cottage. But for the most part, they’d spent the early days of their marriage focused only on each other. Until Alice’s supply of money began to dwindle.

Wonderland could be anything now, full of new and scary dangers. He could die. Or step through that portal and never see his daughter again.

But he trusted that Emma and her family would care for Grace if he never made it back. Alice was on the other side of that portal somewhere, and he couldn’t just stand around waiting for another chance. He didn’t know what state she might be in without a heart, but he had to bring her home. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try. He’d never be able to look Grace in the eyes and tell her that he’d never tried. Grace believed that true love would always find a way. He had to prove her right.

So he jumped.

The cold hit him like a wall when his feet touched the slippery earth. Instead of the place between worlds, he felt ice in his nose, and it was so sharp and sudden that he ended up on his knees, hands slipping over frost and ice on the road.

It was definitely still a road, winding and twisting its way down the hill to the hedges off in the distance. The sky was a deep dark purple, with swirling blue clouds that looked like the ending of a storm. Frost and snow had stuck to every surface. Blades of grass sagged onto the road from the weight. Everywhere he looked, Wonderland was pale and lifeless.

There was no color anymore. Even though everything on the ground was white, the land appeared hazy and dark. As if the sun could no longer penetrate through the angry clouds or dusty haze. The longer he stood there, the more he could make out Wonderland’s unique scents. But it wasn’t how he remembered it. It smelled like decaying leaves and rotten apples. Like an abandoned orchard left to ferment in the sun.

He took a deep breath and tried to force himself not to breathe through his nose. He stood to his feet and headed slowly down the hill, slipping on the ice and trying not to touch anything to catch his balance. He didn’t know where to begin his search, but he hoped something familiar might spark an idea.

He wasn’t even sure what he’d do if he found her. The portal might not let them both back through. Maybe he could just force her through by herself. Give Grace a mother in exchange for a father.

He knew they’d be angry, both of them, if he made that choice. So he decided not to think about it until he absolutely had to. He would have to figure it out as he went along. For now, his goal was simple. He just needed to confirm that Alice was alive. Once he knew for sure, he could figure out what to do.

Wonderland was eerily silent, and it set his nerves on edge. Once or twice, he thought he heard whispering from deep within the forest of grass, but nothing appeared on the road for a long time. There were no footprints in the frost. It was as if the animals avoided the open road. He couldn’t even locate the patch of mushrooms they’d claimed as their own so many years before. Back when Wonderland was as vibrant and alive as Alice was.

Wonderland was dying. He could feel it as he walked. The bricks in the road crumbled and cracked beneath the frost. The weight of ice on the grass was too heavy for the blades. They sagged in the road, making the place even more wild and dangerous looking than he remembered. The sky churned, but no thunder rolled. It looked like the threat of a storm, with no knowledge of when it would begin. There were no birds, flowers, or animals; nothing but the quiet whispers of unfelt breezes and he slid along his way. Even the few mushrooms he encountered were soggy beneath a layer of frost.

“What happened here?” he asked, as he ran his fingers over a tall mushroom to wipe away the ice. The skin felt wrinkled and orange instead of the bright colors he remembered.

“You’re late,” a voice said from behind.

He jolted and spun, expecting the Queen’s guard or worse. But it was only a rabbit. Standing in the middle of the broken and cracked road. The rabbit wore a thick coat and gold-rimmed glasses but otherwise appeared like a perfectly normal rabbit. Albeit on the larger side. He was holding a pocket watch that Jefferson knew went counterclockwise but always seemed to make sense to everyone else.

“Beg pardon?” he asked.

“You’re late,” the rabbit informed him.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Goodness no. But we’ve been expecting you for some time. The Queen wishes to see you.” Jefferson gulped and took a step away from the creature. His foot slipped on an upturned stone.

“I’m not here to see the Queen. I’m here to find Alice.”

“Alice?” The rabbit looked confused. He blinked beady red eyes and cocked his head to the side, ears twitching as if he’d heard that name wrong. “Alice? What’s an Alice?” Jefferson wanted to grab him by the throat and throttle him.

“Don’t you remember? The girl who fell through the rabbit hole? It was your rabbit hole, wasn’t it? You brought her here.” The rabbit blinked several more times.

“Oh,” he said with sudden realization. “Yes, Alice. I remember her.”

“Do you know where she is? What happened to her?”

“She’s gone. She hasn’t been here for some time.”

“She has to be here. Where else could she be?”

“She’s forgotten Wonderland. And Wonderland has forgotten her. Alice is gone.” Jefferson sighed heavily. He could never get a straight answer out of them.

“Do you have any idea where she is?” he decided to ask, though he didn’t expect a proper answer. The creatures in Wonderland hardly ever answered the way he thought they should. The rabbit took a long time to think.

“The Queen of Hearts took her head. She went to the place where all creatures go when they've lost their heads.”

“The Queen took my head too. I didn’t go anywhere.”

“Of course you did. You went to the place all creatures go when they’ve lost their heads.”

“And where is that exactly?”

“Mad.”

His teeth clenched. He hated being called “mad.” He and Alice used to throw the word around like a silly joke. They were odd as portal jumpers, but Wonderland was the most unusual place of all. It was normal to feel mad in such a strange place. But the word had been used to torture him for so long. He remembered the way Emma had called him insane when he tried to convince her of the truth. With distaste and pity, all mingled together. It left a sour feeling in his gut.

“Then I guess I’ve wasted my time,” he said. “I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, no. You can’t go. The Queen is expecting you.”

“I’m not here to see the Queen. I don’t want to see her.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Mr. Hatter.”

Jefferson stiffened, listening to the sudden sound in the air. It had started low enough for him not to notice. But Wonderland was silent and still, and it didn’t take long for the sound to reach him. The distinct shuffle of metal coming from down the bend in the road. He’d heard that sound a thousand times in his nightmares. The sound of armor shifting. They’d been there all along, just waiting to catch him off guard. He spun back toward the rabbit as his mind raced to find the quickest route back to the portal.

“You work for her now?” he spat, disgusted at the creature for his betrayal. Alice had considered the White Rabbit a friend.

“Why I’ve always worked for her,” he said as if this were obvious.

The guards appeared below. Their white armor shimmering between blades of frozen grass. Much closer than he initially thought. He’d have to come up with a better plan before returning.

So he took off at a run up the road toward the waiting portal. It was challenging to stay upright on the icy stones. He’d have to equip himself better next time. Something warmer. Boots. Weapons.

The portal stood shimmering at the top of the hill, taking the form of a looking-glass, just like before. He’d nearly reached it when something struck him on the shoulder, knocking his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard and slid on the ice for several feet before coming to a stop. He tried to jump back to his feet, but it was already too late. Someone shoved him face first into the road and yanked his arms behind his back.

“No, please?” he begged. “I have a daughter. I have to get home to her. I didn’t take anything. Please? Let me go?”

“Trespassers go to the Jabberwock,” the guard informed him. “As decreed by her majesty, the Red Queen.”

“I didn’t take anything, I swear,” Jefferson pleaded. “I just want to get home to my daughter.”

One of the guards moved to stand before him. His boots were white instead of red and Jefferson looked up, surprised to see the man’s human face exposed, instead of hidden behind a helmet. The man had dark hair and eyes that were sharply green in the dreary landscape. He held a hand over the hilt of his sword and examined his prisoner.

“You shouldn’t have returned to this place,” he said. Then he turned to the other guards, who were keeping him pinned to the ground. “This one doesn’t go to the Jabberwock yet. The Queen would like to see him first.”

“But sir…,” a guard protested.

“I said take him to the Queen.”

They reluctantly followed orders and lifted Jefferson to his feet. He tried to struggle, but the enchantment glued his legs and forced him silent. He couldn’t lose Grace again. He couldn’t put her at risk by leaving that portal open. He knew that’s what the Queen really wanted. He was foolish to come back to Wonderland. An idiot for believing Alice could still be alive. It was probably a trap from the very start. And now he was going to lose Grace all over again, all for chasing false hope. This time he couldn’t be sure he’d ever get her back.


	26. Chapter 26

The guards traded shifts when the sun shined from the middlemost part of Wonderland’s sky. Alice called it noon, but Jefferson never really knew for sure. Either way, it gave them a small enough window to sneak into the Queen’s rose garden unnoticed, cut a rose from a vine, and run. Jefferson was glad to have Alice’s help once she was there. She made the job easier since she clearly had a better understanding of time and Wonderland’s peculiarities. She warned him that the hedges might fight back if they were touched, and sure enough, when Jefferson cut the rose free, the vines began to twist and churn.

He grabbed Alice by the wrist and made a run for the road. They’d chosen the closest blossom they could find to the exit, just to be sure it gave them enough time to get away. The guards caught sight of them as they ran for the camp they’d made under the mushroom patch. He could hear them shouting and the shuffling of their armor as they began to make chase. He kept his hand around Alice’s wrist and made a last minute decision to leave everything behind. He could replace what they’d lost. All that mattered now was that they got back to their cottage and never looked back.

The portal stood waiting at the top of the hill just like it always did. They’d spent an entire week in Wonderland, planning and preparing and enjoying what they both knew would be their last trip. He rushed toward the shimmering looking-glass, panting and stumbling, and for one glorious moment, he thought they were safe. Until the portal spit the both of them back out onto the road. Jefferson was back on his feet in a second.

“I don’t understand,” he said, kneeling to make sure Alice wasn’t hurt. He reached out to touch the portal surface, and it moved around him like it always did.

“We’ll have to worry about it another time,” she said, scrambling to her feet and yanking him back. The sound of shuffling armor grew louder. They had no more time. “We have to run. Now!”

Jefferson reluctantly agreed. He grabbed her by the wrist again and dove into the grass. They didn’t stop running until they’d reached the forest of unnaturally slim and tall trees. The sound of armor faded and they couldn’t run any longer. Jefferson released his hold on Alice, and she dropped to the forest floor in the shade. She buried her head in her hands and clutched the rose between her fingers. He paced as he tried to catch his breath, too full of adrenaline to sit still. He felt like a caged animal. He had to get Alice home. They got what they came for. There was no reason for the portal to not work.

“I don’t understand,” he repeated. “Why couldn’t we get through? What did we do wrong? Did someone enchant it? Is it the rose? I don’t understand.”

“Oh, dear. A conundrum. A predicament. A pickle,” a lazy voice spoke from above. Jefferson spun, ready to take down a guard with his knife. But it was only a bodiless cat, hovering in the trees with large feline eyes and a wide grin. Purple stripes appeared next like swirling ribbons, and then the full body of a housecat. It leaned on a tree branch and smiled down at them.

“Get out of here!” Jefferson said, waving the animal away and turning back to Alice. She was still sitting on the forest floor, wrapped in her cloak and breathing hard. He knelt beside her and placed a comforting hand on her arm.

“It wasn’t the rose. It was her,” the cat purred, rolling onto his back and smiling down at them. Jefferson wasn’t in the mood to deal with a talking cat and whatever riddles it was going to come up with just for a chat. He looked up and glared at the animal. “Two come in. Two go out.” Jefferson shook his head.

“I know how it works,” He growled.

“Two come in. Three can’t go out.”

“What do you mean three? Unless someone went through ahead of us, it’s just Alice and me.”

“Just you and Alice indeed,” the cat said. “Two come in. Three can’t go out.”

Jefferson stood and looked for a rock to throw at the cat. He was too confused and irritated and frightened to deal with this nonsense. He just wanted to get them home to their cottage so they could build a life away from Wonderland. But as usual, Alice understood before he did.

“Jefferson, don’t,” she said, gripping the sleeve of his coat and pulling him back to her.

He knelt at her side again. He could already tell by the pale and thoughtful expression on her face that she knew exactly what the animal was saying. They sometimes spoke backward or in riddles, but it always made sense to her. He held her face between his hands, searching desperately for an answer in her dark eyes.

“Tell me. Please?” he begged. She was still breathing heavily from running. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were sad with realization.

“Two come in. Three can’t go out,” she repeated. “The other night—when we camped under the mushrooms. You remember?”

“Of course I remember,” he said. It was one of the greatest nights of his life. They’d stayed up long after dark, enjoying Wonderland and the way it made everything feel slightly more exciting than usual. She nodded, emphasizing something he was still missing.

“You know what we did that night, Jefferson.”

He thought of the way he held her in his arms and couldn’t let her go. He knew it would happen sooner or later, but it never occurred to him that it might happen in Wonderland. Or that it would prevent them from getting through the portal. He was piecing it together now, but there was still defiance in him. He would find a way to reason, to find another way out. It was too soon. They hadn’t planned for it yet. It wasn’t supposed to happen until they were home in their cottage with steadier futures.

“You think…,” he started.

“We can’t get through the portal because when we came in, we were only two. We’re not two anymore. We’re three.”

“But it’s too soon. It’s not even a person yet.”

“Wonderland has different rules, my love. It always has. It’s a living thing.”

“The flowers are living things, Alice!”

“Exactly.” She pinched her eyes shut. “Listen. We both wanted it. It doesn’t matter to Wonderland that it’s not old enough to be a life. We wanted it. And that’s enough to make it count.”

He pinched his eyes shut and pressed his head against hers. She cradled his face in her hands. He knew what it meant now. One of them would have to stay behind. He would have to stay so that she could go back. She’d be all alone in a land she was barely getting to know, with no family and no friends. And he wouldn’t be there for her when the time came or any time after.

“You go through then,” he finally decided, even though his throat was stuck and his fingers trembled as he gripped her arms. “Just you. That makes two, right?”

“I won’t leave you,” she said, shaking her head.

“You can’t stay here. Especially not now that the Queen knows we’re here.”

“I won’t.”

“We don’t have a choice!”

“This is the only choice! We made a promise!”

“To hell with promises, Alice.”

She sniffled and pulled him closer. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She was afraid too, and he didn’t know any other way to keep her safe. To keep both of them safe. He couldn’t go back alone, even if he wanted to. He was only one of two. She was the only one who could go back now. The Queen would take his head if she caught him. And Alice would live out her life in the Enchanted Forest, raising their child all alone. They never should have come back. He never should have let her come. Promise or no promise.

“Please?” he begged. “Just go.”

“We can find a way,” she argued. “There’s always a way.”

“We won’t find one in time. Not here. The only way is for you to get out while you still can.”

“She’ll kill you. She’ll take your head.”

“I know, but if you stay all three of us die. Please, Alice? Please, just go?” She shook her head and bit her bottom lip defiantly.

“I won’t leave you here to die. We can find a way back home. All of us. I won’t go without you. I won’t lose you.”

“Go to the Dark One again. Bring him the rose. That’ll repay the debt. He’ll find a way to get me out or someone to trade me for.”

“In the meantime, you’ll be hunted by the Queen! And the Dark One is the whole reason we’re here at all. I won’t risk it again! I know the kind of deals he makes! He’s infamous in every land!”

“And I can’t risk you.”

“It’s all of us—or none of us. That was the promise we made. We’re a family. We do this together or not at all.”

He pulled away from her, ripping the rose out of her hand. It was just a flower. Just some silly thing the Dark One wanted to repay a debt, and now they were going to die for it. Everything they’d worked for and dreamed of. The nest and the family he finally realized he wanted so badly. That was why Wonderland already considered it a person. Because he’d wanted it too. And now he was going to lose it all for a rose. He threw it against a nearby tree, hoping the petals would fall apart. But it flopped to the ground, as perfect as it was when it was cut.

Jefferson took a moment to calm down. Alice wouldn’t leave without him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t force her to go. He had to trick her, but he’d have to wait until she least expected it, when it was safe to go back. The guards would keep hunting them, and they’d have to find a place to hide until it was clear. Then he’d get her through and never see her again. Or meet the child that was growing inside her. It was what he had to do.

So he went back to her side. She was sniffling quietly into her hands, and he didn’t even notice until the sky darkened and light sprinkles began to hit the leaves above. He hated himself for making her cry. He took her hand in his and touched the place where a thorn had punctured her skin. He brought the small cut to his lips and kissed it, angry at himself for hurting her, even though he hadn’t meant to. Then he pulled her to his chest and kissed her head as he wrapped his arms around her and waited for the drizzle to slow.

“We’ll find a place to hide out for a while,” he told her. He felt her nod, sniffing against his chest. “We’ll find a way back home. For all of us.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled in his vest. He didn’t speak again. He knew what he was going to have to do to save her life, and she’d probably never forgive him for it. But at least she’d be alive long enough to be angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for that unexpected hiatus. Idk what happened with me. I just didn't want to do anything. Like at all. I wasn't expecting it to be a 6 month break but here we are. Really gonna try to push myself to get through it.


	27. Chapter 27

Grace would never forgive him. He’d foolishly pursued a small flicker of hope without a plan or a thought about what it would mean for her if he didn’t come back. He only had himself to blame this time. Sure, someone had set the bait, but he’d taken it without question. It was just like when Regina tricked him into going back to Wonderland. He wanted so badly to provide a better life for Grace that he went against his instincts not to trust Regina. Now he’d pushed aside all logical reasoning for the ember of hope that Alice was still alive. And Grace would be alone again. Without either of her parents.

The Queen’s maze was iced over. The land was cold and dead. The only sign of life besides himself and the guards were the occasional white roses that peeked out of the frost on the hedges.

Something shrieked from the sky above. A bone-chilling call he’d never heard before, but he knew too well from the horror stories he’d heard from his days as a trader and thief. He looked up to see the shadow swoop through the clouds before disappearing into the blue mist.

“What is that?” he asked. The knight stayed behind him on a horse with spiked bands around its ankles. He was the only knight with his head uncovered. The one they seemed to get their orders from.

“That’s the Jabberwock, my friend,” the knight told him, with a wary glance at the sky.

“It’s free now?”

“It’s been free for some time. It’s the Queen’s fears manifest. So long as the Queen fears it, it can’t be chained.”

“What’s it doing?” The knight smiled.

“Hunting. The lands are divided. Trespassers go to the Jabberwock. Be thankful I was here to intervene. You might not be so lucky next time. Most aren’t.” Jefferson motioned toward his legs, which were still immobile as the guards dragged him helplessly over the ice. They had him by the arms, and he still couldn’t get himself to move.

“Lucky. Right,” he remarked. The knight only smiled.

He thought of Grace as they dragged him through the hedges with the looming shadow sweeping through the clouds above. He wondered how she would react to finding the house empty when she got home from school, with no one there with a tray of tea and cookies. How long would she stay there before calling for help? Where would she go if he never returned? Back to the family who took her in the last time he failed her? Would she grow up hating him for abandoning her and never learning from his mistakes?

He had to find a way back. He couldn’t let them win again. If he could just get his legs to move, he could do it. But it was an enchantment and not his own lack of trying. He knew he’d never get free until they let him go. He could rage inside all he wanted. He’d still be as compliant as clay.

The roses were supposed to be red. It was the Red Queen’s garden before the Queen of Hearts usurped her. The new queen had wanted her subjects to remember her power wherever they looked. They’d only been white once that he recalled, and only through stories. They’d turned that color by accident, and Alice helped a scared gardener paint them red just so the Queen wouldn’t take his head.

She was seven-years-old then. Younger than Grace. And the Red Queen wanted her to die for it. Or so they thought. She only ever wanted Alice’s head. And now Jefferson knew that didn’t necessarily mean the end. The Queen of Hearts won Alice’s head years later when he’d stolen a single red rose from her garden and Alice paid the price. Now the roses were white. Like the snow that dusted the land. Like the armored guards and even the horse who watched him with intelligent, knowing eyes, occasionally whispering words to his rider.

They carried him up a small flight of stairs and over a black and white checkered floor, dusted with powdery snow. Even the Jabberwock had gone silent, but there was still a charge in the air like the tension right before a storm. Or the electric zip of magic right before a portal opened.

The guards dropped him at the foot of the Queen’s dais and the knight dismounted. Jefferson leaned on his hands but refused to look up at her. He didn’t want her to think she’d won. And if disrespecting her was the only thing he could do to defy her, he’d do it. He’d gotten out once before. Of course, he couldn’t remember exactly how, but there was still a chance he could get away again. So long as the Jabberwock stayed above the clouds.

“Trespassers go to the Jabberwock,” the Queen’s voice spoke from her side. It was a man at her side, speaking aloud her whispered words. Jefferson’s already scraped fingers turned pink on the icy floor. He still couldn’t get them to move.

“I’ve been told to obey different orders for this trespasser,” the knight said, standing beside him like a cat presenting its master with a mouse. “He was running when I found him. To a portal.” Jefferson could hear the Queen whisper, but couldn’t make out her words.

“The Queen wishes to know who you are and how you gained entrance to this land,” the voice spoke for her.

“I came through a hat,” he admitted.

“Hatter. You were a prisoner here before, were you not?”

“I was.”

“And how did you escape?” Jefferson shook his head. His breath left his body in puffs from the cold air.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.” The Queen whispered again, silencing the man for using her voice without her urging. “Why have you come?” the man repeated for her.

“I was looking for something I lost.”

“Something you stole.”

“No. Something that was stolen from me.”

The throne creaked, and the Queen’s shoes tapped on her cold platform. She appeared before him in a gown of solid white. A warm gloved hand touched his jaw and lifted his chin up. The woman stood still and white like a ghost. Her face was hidden behind a veil that tucked into her collar, which was made up of long white peacock feathers that splayed around her like a halo.

He remembered the stories of the Wonderland of old. The locals told him there was another queen once. Not the Queen of Hearts or the Red Queen, but a White Queen. A benevolent queen. However, in Wonderland, that didn’t always mean they were kind.

“What is your name?” the man at the dais asked as the Queen studied the trespasser’s face, moving it from side to side as if she could read a story in his skin.

“Jefferson,” he said, staring back at her empty white veil.

“Mr. Jefferson….”

“Just—Jefferson.”

“And what is it that you’re searching for, Just Jefferson?”

“My wife. I want to bring her home. To our daughter.”

“Does your wife have a name?” the man asked. The Queen hadn’t asked him to say any of this, and Jefferson wasn’t sure if it was because he knew what she wanted to ask, or he was just comfortable speaking for her. She made no move to correct him. She took a step back, letting her hand drop from Jefferson’s face. But then she lifted it and stopped the man from continuing with his interrogation.

“Very well,” he said. “The prisoner shall not go to the Jabberwock.” Jefferson breathed a sigh of relief. “He goes to the dungeons. Escort him.”

The knight at Jefferson’s side lifted him back onto his clumsy feet and dragged him to the stairway that led into the underground castle. The Queen stayed where she was at the foot of the dais, watching him go. Her veil moved as she followed him until he disappeared into the dark.

The guards took him to his former prison, where he’d been forced to do nothing but build hats for days and weeks, he wasn’t sure how long. The room had bright windows that faced the other side of Wonderland, where he’d never been. He was shoved inside the large room and found himself facing one of the windows, where towns twinkled in the distance. A lazy river snaked between them and shimmered in the dull light. It stretched through the land before disappearing into that forest of unnaturally long trees. He turned to face the Knight, looking around at the familiar room while the man spoke to his guards.

“We will leave him here,” he was saying.

The room was the same, but there was no sign of his hats. Instead, it was filled from floor to ceiling with tall shapes, hidden behind white sheets.

“The Queen instructed us to take him to the dungeons,” a guard argued.

“I’m instructing you to leave him here. You are being dismissed. I will take the Queen’s wrath.”

The others didn’t argue. They nodded and disappeared into the hallway. The Knight didn’t shut the door, but stood back and stayed quiet as he watched over his charge. Jefferson turned his back on him and stood before one of the objects. He could tell, even before lifting the sheet, that it was a mirror. They all were. An entire room full of them.

“What happened when you escaped before?” the knight asked. Jefferson glanced around the room at all the other mirrors. It was large enough to be a ballroom. Filled floor to ceiling with sheet covered frames.

“I didn’t escape,” he said. “I don’t know how I got out.”

“I mean you no ill intentions.”

“Of course not. Why shouldn’t I trust the knight who kidnapped me and held me captive?”

“In a room instead of a dungeon. In a castle instead of the Jabberwock’s jaws.”

“This room was a prison cell to me before. It doesn’t feel any different now. And you disobeyed your queen to put me here.”

“I never disobeyed my queen. I follow different orders.”

“She told you to put me in the dungeon.”

“The Queen’s voice told me, and I don’t take my orders from him. If you were smart enough to turn around, you might have noticed I haven’t locked you anywhere.”

Jefferson slowly turned his head and glanced at the knight. He was standing beside the open doors, watching with vivid green eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“When you were here before—The Queen of Hearts stationed me outside of your door. I would listen to you talk to yourself for hours. They all said you were mad,” he explained. Jefferson shook his head. “I knew it wasn’t madness. You were just a father, desperate to get home to his child. I took pity.”

“You got me out?”

“Perhaps you’re not as dumb as you look.”

“But why? I’m no one to you.”

“I take my orders from the Queen of Wonderland. The true Queen.”

“Why would the Queen want me to go free?”

“Because you have a daughter. She’s isn’t fond of making orphans.”

“Why the secrecy? Why all the tricks and lies?”

“This land is at war, Mr. Jefferson.”

“Just Jefferson.” The knight ignored it.

“The Red Queen rules in the east. The White Queen rules in the west. The Queen of Hearts left scars on this land. The people love their Queen, but they’re loyal to their fear. Fear is more powerful than love. You’ve seen what patrols these lands. You know who he works for.”

“So the Queen can’t let her people see me go. Or she loses power.” The knight nodded.

“Something like that.”

“I can leave? Just like that?”

“If you can find your way out.”

Jefferson decided not to question further. Of course, he had thousands of questions swirling around inside his head, but he had to get home to Grace, to make a better plan, and prepare for what he had to do next. He bolted for the door, and the knight made no move to stop him. But when he spun around the corner, he found his way barred.

The Queen stood in the middle of the hall with her hands clasped tightly at her front. The large gown and long feathers around her collar made her look bigger and more imposing than she really must be. She was still like a statue until he stopped, breathing hard just before her. Then she lifted a hand and motioned for him to follow. She turned quickly and walked away.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, hurrying to keep up with her strides. She kept her gown clutched in her hands but her shoulders were straight. Her veiled head faced forward, and the feathers bounced along with her steps. She didn’t speak.

“I came here to find my wife,” he begged her. “I just want to take her home.”

“She can’t help you with that,” the Knight said, catching up to them.

“I just need to know what happened to her. The Queen of Hearts took her head. I need to know if she’s alive.” The knight shook his head.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. This isn’t the same Wonderland you left behind. You’re better off going home to your daughter and never looking back. You got lucky this time. Don’t make the same mistake twice. The Jabberwock doesn’t waste time with questions.”

The Queen led the two of them through another door and down into the chasms of her mountainside castle. The stairs seemed to go on forever, some of them stretching across walls and leading into impossible places. She led them further down until the light from above began to fade, and it became difficult to see in the darkness.

Finally, the knight moved on ahead of them. She stood back to allow him to unlock a door. He pushed it aside and the Queen nodded a quick thanks before motioning for Jefferson to follow her into the dark. The knight reached out to grip the front of his vest before he could pass.

“You leave this place, and you don’t come back,” he warned. “I am loyal to the White Queen, but the others aren’t. If you come back here and I do not find you first, you will go to the Jabberwock, and the Red Queen will make sure you never see your daughter, or anyone else, ever again.”

He wanted to believe they were really letting him go, but his heart was pounding as he pulled himself free and followed her. He couldn’t agree to the knight’s terms. He was going to return whether they liked it or not. He owed it to Alice to at least try. Even if she really had died all those years ago. He needed to know for sure.

He stepped into the darkness and took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. They’d led him to an underground waterway. He could hear the river rushing and feel the splatter of mist on his skin.

“Stay silent,” the Knight warned him. “The Jabberwock has been called back to the Red Queen. So the sky should be clear. But she has many spies. From birds to other, less kindly, things. Keep quiet on your journey. They are always listening.”

“I will.”

The Queen had disappeared down the stairs and stood waiting beside the water’s edge. A single white boat was tethered to the dock by a chain. She motioned for him to step inside and he did without question. He waited for her to unlock the chains before speaking. He didn’t know why she’d chosen to do this work herself, instead of allowing her knight to do it for her. He had his suspicions, but he couldn’t dare to hope for that much.

“Why are you letting me go?” he asked.

She lifted her hand in the direction the water was flowing and pointed to the paddle tucked into the boat. He scrambled to her side and pressed his hand against her chest, right where her heart would be if she still had one. Nothing was beating beneath the fabric.

“Alice,” he breathed. She put her hands to the edge of the boat and pushed it away into the current. He could still see her in the darkness, gleaming like the roses in his yard. “I named her Grace,” he told her. “Just like we decided.” The Queen lifted her dress from her ankles and fled back up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the "White Knight" was technically a canon character in OuaT, but I decided to make my own version. So he isn't the same guy that's in the show. Also, the White Knight is written as kind of a bumbling dumb-ass who rides his horse backward, and I obviously took some creative liberties there.


	28. Chapter 28

Time in Wonderland was the only thing Jefferson could never get the hang of. He spent most of his days trying to keep Alice safe until he could get her close enough to the portal to push her through. He barely noticed the change at all. She grew tired quicker than usual. And then running and changing camps every night was no longer possible. She spent an entire week so sick that Jefferson had to carry her to the hare’s burrow to beg for a place to stay until she recovered. The hare set them up in an uncomfortably small bedroom below ground. He brought them food that he promised wouldn’t make her grow or shrink, but instead to satiate her illness.

Just like that, she was back on her feet. Jefferson tried to stay as close to the portal as possible, but the Queen’s guard was on constant patrol. He wasn’t ready to die just yet. He still had a small flicker of hope that they’d find a way to get home. He was almost glad he hadn’t gotten her out yet just so he could spend those last moments with her.

Until the day he noticed her body was growing. Where he was from, it took months for a woman’s body to grow with child. But they weren’t in the Enchanted Forest anymore. He noticed when she started wearing looser clothes, but he hadn’t questioned it. It was easier to run in them, and he knew her illness made her uncomfortable. But at night when they were lying in the hare’s spare bedroom, he watched as she lay beside him.

The bed was too small for both of them to share, but he wouldn’t leave her side. No matter how much more comfortable they’d be. She had one of her knees up against the wall, and the other foot draped over the end of the bed. Her hand rested on her stomach as she hummed to herself, eyes closed. It was unmistakably round. He reached out to put his hand on it, feeling the solidness of her womb. It was too soon for her to grow so quickly. They couldn’t have been in Wonderland more than a month.

He hadn’t thought about how Wonderland’s odd time might affect her growth. Nothing else ever seemed to age or grow. At the very least, he’d expected a full nine months. But Wonderland had different rules, as she said, and so did time.

Her hand fell over his.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to notice,” she remarked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, nestling into her side and resting his head against her waist. She ran her fingers through his messy dark hair.

“I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve already been so troubled and distant. I didn’t want you to think we were running out of time.”

He wanted to beg her to go back through the portal. To allow the child to grow the way it was supposed to. So that they could both live. Even if it meant they had to be a widow and a fatherless child. He’d been biding his time getting around to it. He never considered that they might have to bring a child through the portal on top of everything else. A child born in Wonderland, no less.

He wasn’t ready to die yet, but now he had no choice. He had to get her through before the baby could be born in that place. He didn’t know what the Queen would do to them if she found out. He might never be able to give them luxury, but he could give them his life.

“I feel it move sometimes,” she told him. He wasn’t surprised considering how much she’d already grown. “I know you’re afraid—and that you don’t want to talk about it. But I thought we might come up with a name. Don’t you think?”

She was right; he didn’t want to talk. He wasn’t given much time to come to terms with impending fatherhood. They’d talked about it, of course, but it always felt so far away. Even when they’d made definite plans. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast and with the likelihood of him never getting to meet his child.

“Do you have any suggestions?” she asked.

“The only name that means anything to me is yours,” he admitted, shutting his eyes and mumbling into her belly. It shook as she laughed.

“I don’t think Alice the Second is really quite what I had in mind. I never liked the idea of a Junior either. Before you get that idea into your head.”

“Why not? Jefferson Junior. We could call him JJ.” He smiled up at her, ignoring the heaviness in his heart. He’d never know the baby, let alone call it by name. But if he could give it its name—he’d at least have that. He could die with that. She only smiled and rolled her eyes.

“For a boy,” he started, “we could name him after your brother.”

“John?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be happy with that?”

“I think I could.”

“But you never knew John. He means nothing to you.”

“No one means anything to me except for you. And you already said Alice the Second is out of the question. I know you loved your brother.” She was silent as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He shut his eyes and rested against her again.

“John is nice,” she finally agreed. “And if it’s a girl?”

“Dinah?” She laughed again, shaking her whole belly.

“After my cat?”

“Why not? She was your best friend for a time, wasn’t she?”

“How about we try something original? Something unique to the child. And not in memory of siblings or pets.”

The only woman who’d ever meant anything to him besides Alice was his mother. And the last time he’d seen her, she called him a disgrace and said she never wanted to see him again. Alice wanted something original anyway. Something that belonged to the child alone.

Her laugh seemed to have woken the baby in her belly. He felt it move beneath his hand. Something twitched under her skin. Then it thumped a few more times in small, graceful kicks. Like a little dancer.

“Did you feel that?” she questioned. He smiled and tried to hold back the raw emotion that was threatening to fill his eyes with tears. It was probably the only chance he had to bond with his child, and he didn’t want to waste it. He’d never know if they were having a John or a….

“Yes,” he told her. “And I think—if it’s a girl—I think we should call her Grace.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, and he laid there holding her close, feeling her warmth and the squiggle of their baby thumping around inside her body.

“Grace,” she said quietly. “I like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo.... you may have noticed that I've deleted and rewritten this story several times. Hopefully, this is my last rewrite. I had a lot of big ideas for it (like illustrated banners/comic pages for every chapter), but I'm not able to undertake a project like that yet (though I'd still like to eventually). Basically, I wanted it to be a bit more interactive than what I usually put up.
> 
> But anyway, I recently finished my advanced creative writing class. And got to do a lot of things that challenged me and pointed out some of my writing flaws. So I decided to go back and just start fresh with this one.
> 
> There's a Tumblr tag here (https://indigodrawsthings.tumblr.com/tagged/finding-alice) where you can find gifs, concepts, inspiration, and drawings for the story.
> 
> Also (sorry this note is so long) I started developing the ideas for this story back around season 2 or 3 of Once Upon a Time. So there was no spin-off comic and no Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. This story has nothing to do with either of those. This Alice is not the same Alice that was on the show. I tried to make her a bit closer to the book version, with some Disney thrown in. Though older and with the obvious OUaT twists.
> 
> Updates on Tuesdays!


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